


UnShaekable

by Mrs_Strife



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon Compliant, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Ivalice, Original Character(s), basically all emotions, i love wrecked characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 52
Words: 168,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Strife/pseuds/Mrs_Strife
Summary: A witty sky pirate with impenetrable walls, Shae finds herself swept away in the currents of Princess Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca's Resistance when she attempts to steal from the Rabanastre's palace treasury the very same night as a simple thief and a pair of adept pirates.Carried on with promises of treasure worth enough gil to pay back her debts and repair her airship, she tags along for the ride in hopes of getting long-awaited revenge on Vayne Carudas Solidor, a man she appears to possess endless ties to.At the end of the day, all Balthier really wants is some answers.





	1. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

**Author's Note:**

> Time to step out into the uncharted territory of Final Fantasy XII!  
> I know it's said far too often, but this game is seriously underrated, as I discovered this November when I bought The Zodiac Age half off at Game Stop. Since then, I've hardly been able to put it down and, well, here we are. A hundred and forty pages into a word document and posting the first two chapters on AO3.  
> What else can I say besides "enjoy"?

~4 months after Dalmascan fall~

"To another success!" Dern cheers, clinking his tankard to mine.

We down the cool, bitter alcohol in our pewter mugs. To my left slouches a burlap sack of golden trinkets, embedded with jewels and decorations of all types. The rich folk out here thought they were safe in Jagd where sky-craft can't fly overhead and drop pirates down. How amusing.

Dern and I, we're not your typical sky pirates. We know the value of stealth, of darkness, of bribery. Deceit may just be my most prominent talent. For a man his size, Dern takes on the best features of a thief, moving with practiced grace and precision. Perhaps the smartest man I will ever meet. I've yet to see a new victor.

"What say we head for Bhujerba tomorrow?" I suggest. "The fences moved from the Estersand days ago."

"Of course," Dern shrugs, refilling his cup. "I suppose they hitched a ride with another ship. That, or they played the stowaway card." Falling back into his seat across from me, he raises his glass. "But for now... What's that saying? 'Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry'? Something along those lines." I laugh, shaking my head and leaning back in my seat. I kick my boots up on the rough wooden table, staring up at the ceiling.

The rumble of the  _Castean_ reverberates through the clumsy legs of my chair. The signals of her life, which nearly equates with mine. Well, Dern's too, I suppose. It's all we pour our energy into, all we live and breathe for. The bearer of our hope. The carrier of our dreams. The product of our partnership. A product caused by years of betrayal, pain, trial, destruction, but a product that was well worth it all indeed.

"What do we do with this next payment?" Dern asks, his tankard hitting the table with a firm thump. I shrug, rubbing a sore bruise on my bare shoulder.

"What would  _you_ like?"

"For you to choose."

I roll my eyes, snatching up the end of my long braid and brushing the tip across my palm. Dern waits patiently, stroking the dark goatee at the end of his square chin as he watches me with lively brown eyes. This is all we ever wanted: our freedom. Now that we have it, we don't know what to do with ourselves. Every day feels like a celebration of how far we've come and how much we've learned. How much we've changed. How much celebration is there before calamity strikes?

"You're contemplating something obscure yet again."

"Hm?" I raise my eyebrows, watching him grin at me.

"The money. We could use it for anything, really. Upgrades, luxuries, savings..." His deep voice trails off and I hum, staring at the smooth white wall.

"Perhaps... Some paint jobs for our little beauty."

"You read my mind," he laughs, placing one hand on my resting ankle. "I'll seek out the fences tomorrow. You head out and pick some colors. Deal?"

"True teamwork," I mutter, shooting him a sly smile and peering up at him through thick, dark lashes. He grins, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.

"Y'know, we've been through Hell and back, but there's no one else I would've rather escaped with." Dern brushes a hand through his thick hair, pushing several unruly strands back into place. "And yes, I meant  _escaped_. I was suffocating and you breathed the life back into me."

"You make it sound like we're ancient," I scoff, though a smile never leaves my lips. "And you're my best friend, Dern, you know that. I never would've made it this far without you."

"Now  _there's_ something worthy of a toast!"

I laugh as he refills our tankards, clicking them together on his own with an excited cheer.  _You breathed the life back into me._ I shake my head, staring into the cup of pitch black liquid. Shrugging, I brush off all notions warning me of my impending drunken state and down whatever it is that Dern keeps in this half-empty cabin.  _Eat, drink, and be merry..._

_For tomorrow, we die._


	2. Thief's Luck

"Oh, bloody hell," I mutter under my breath, leaning around a corner with my heart hammering in my chest. "Not this again." The guards pacing the halls of Rabanastre's palace are perfectly spaced, the handiwork of Vayne Carudas Solidor's careful consideration. I sigh, straightening and pressing my back to the ornate wall of the palace as two guards walk by, their armor clinking with every step.  _Why so many guards when you're "not afraid?"_

The clinking turns the corner around the outer wall of the room I'm outside and I slide around the corner. I can't go in circles for much longer. Frustrated, I throw my head back, eyes shut as I take a deep breath. Footsteps, the hum of conversation upstairs, the thud of my heart.  _There must be another way..._ My eyes open and a smile spreads across my face.  _All hope may not be lost after all._ I pull my lance free from its place on my back, slamming the pointed spearhead into the wall. There's a dull thud as it pierces through, lodged amongst golden swirls and deep green accents.

I pull myself up onto the polearm, tugging the ceiling vent open and swinging my legs into the opening. Dangling upside down like a lithe child, I jerk my weapon free, littering the floor with white crumbles, and cover the hole I escaped through a mere second before the guards come rushing in to see what caused such a ruckus. Grinning, I strap my spear to my back and crawl through the narrow space between the ceiling and the top floor.  _Perhaps next time, my friends._  Avoiding trouble with the empire may just be an inherent skill of mine.

I know I've reached the right place when a golden glow bleeds through the next grater, reflecting off the shine of the empire's gold and jewels. The treasury. Voices hum from below; I debate interrupting the goings-on between the two speakers. I should have known others would find out about the cache of riches in  _Rabanastre_  of all places.

Normally, I avoid trouble at all costs, as it always gravitates toward me anyway. However, I simply cannot bear the idea that whoever beat me to it(with whatever cheating methods they used) gets the benefits of first pick. No, piracy isn't all first come, first served. Most often it's whoever survives the encounter that gets the prize. At least, that's how  _I_ play the game. Silently, I push the grate out of the way and take a deep breathe, clocking out their locations based on low voices.

"I play the leading man, who else?"

Without further hesitation, I drop from the ceiling, holding the end of my spear to the throat of the beholder of a glowing treasure. The boy before me looks startled, his fingers clutching tightly around the stone in his grasp.

"Hand it over and you may just leave intact," I demand in a sickeningly sweet voice, offering a devilish smile.

"Fran, the magicite," another voice comes. My smile melts away as I look between the two other figures in the room. One, a towering viera with snow-white hair and deadly claws. The other a young man in a gold vest and leather pants with pouches strapped here and there. I scowl as the viera, Fran, rests a hand on her hip, staring hard at the boy.

"Now then, I'll take that," she says firmly through a thick, tell-tale accent.

"No, you won't," the boy replies, holding the stone to his chest. "I found it. It's mine."

"That's not how it works, kid," I shake my head, digging the point of my weapon further into his tanned throat.

"And then when I take it from you, it'll be mine," the man replies, ignoring my words entirely. He leans against a locked chest, crossing his arms. The viera joins his side. I scoff, raising an eyebrow at the pair.

"Not a chance."

"And you are...?" the man counters, raising an eyebrow.

"None of your business," I fire back. Outside, the echoes of a struggle break through. I look back at the wall, frowning. The end of my spear clatters to the floor, and when I turn back, the boy is gone, a pair of doors swinging loosely behind him. "Fantastic," I scoff, throwing my spear back into its sheath and glowering at the two behind me before giving chase to the thief. They reek of my kind.

I sprint out the door and down the hall, following the pounding of the boy's footsteps. He's fast, I'll give him that. With my lungs screaming for air, I hurry up several staircases, catching glimpses of the scarlet sash around his waist every so often. The ground rumbles and a nearly deafening boom ensues just as I throw the doors to the balcony passage open. The boy and I stagged to the ground with a series of muffled cries. A pair of boots rushes past my head as I drag myself to my feet. The man from the treasury looks up at the massive airship over our heads.

"The  _Ifrit,_  eh? That's quite an entrance," he comments, eyeing the boy on the ground. I scowl at the back of his head as I rub a raw scrape on my bare shoulder with the armored hand of my left arm. "Impeccable timing. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were waiting all along," he continues, his voice growing grim.

A cannon snaps down from beneath the  _Ifrit,_ an imperial warship, and another missile blasts into the central garden of the Rabanastre palace. I raise an arm to shield my face from the flying dust. I can already hear the boots of the boy hurrying across the bridge, even before the man gives a frustrated shout of:

"Stop running!"

I sprint after the boy and the man, wincing at the sore ache in my hip as I go. Just as the thief approaches the door, a motorized bike pulls out in front of him, driven by the viera from mere minutes ago.  _Of course. A good sky pirate always has an escape plan._ I skid to a stop, brushed aside by the brisk pace of the man in the vest.

"End of the line!" He calls over the whir of the engine. "You have something that belongs to me," he continues, holding out a hand decorated with colorful rings and bracelets. It hardly matches whatever getup he was going for. He heads for the boy, looking startled when lights shine down over our heads.

"More this way!" comes a booming shout.

Cursing under my breath, I sprint after the man and the thief without hesitation. I can't afford to be caught.  _Not again._

"Fran! Let's move!" While the viera rides down over the edge of the balcony, the man hurls the boy over his shoulder, leaping onto the edge of the bridge. "Off with you!"

With that, he throws the thief down, jumping after him. Not one to hesitate in the face of danger, I follow, resisting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut. Hardly seconds later, my fingers dig into the back edge of the bike, clinging for dear life as we speed through the air on a wild escape mission. The man landed in his seat behind Fran, his hand firmly gripping the boy's wrist as he dangles in the air just like me.

"Let go of me!" he protests, trying to fight.

"Keep this up and I will!" the man counters, scowling down at his newest liability. The bike wobbles, moving up and down rapidly as it struggles to keep itself up. "What's going on, Fran?"

"I don't know. It's not heeding me!"

I grit my teeth, my stomach churning when I look down at the passing ground. You're never afraid of heights until you're hanging off the back end of a malfunctioning, flying motorcycle. Unless you're already afraid of heights, I suppose.

"I don't have  _time_ for this!" the man shouts back, frustration clearly laced through his voice.

"I—I'm slipping!"

"Not good!"

Another blast has us sharply turning a corner, the bike rapidly falling toward the ground. Several cries resonate through the air as we crash land. Rolling, spinning, flying through the dirt, I come to a painful stop upon hitting a hard brick wall with a groan. The motorbike skids to a stop on the ground, sparking. Fran rolls to her feet, crouching by the bike as I force myself up, dusting the dirt off my loose white shirt.

"What happened?" the viera asks, frowning at the bike. "Our hover didn't just drop—it disappeared."

"Bah, forget it," the man huffs, sitting on the crumbled steps of what once was a grand entrance. Now, it's a pile of debris in the bottom of a sewer system. "The  _Ifrit'_ s playing with fire, and I'd rather not get burned." He offers Fran a sly smile. "We'll go the old-fashioned way."

"Fates  _above_ , I always get roped into the worst situations," I mutter, crossing my arms. The man watches the boy as he stares at Fran with wide eyes.

"Not many viera where you come from, thief?"

"It's Vaan," the boy counters quickly, looking back down at Fran. "Sorry." The viera straightens, staring back at him with sharp red eyes.

"Well, Fran is special," the man explains, leaning forward on his knees, "in that she's deign to partner with a hume." Fran raises an eyebrow at him.

"Oh? Like a sky pirate that chooses to steal through the sewers?" she counters. Balthier spares her an annoyed glance.

"Pirates?! You guys are sky pirates?!" Vaan asks excitedly. "So you have an airship?"

"It's Balthier," the man replies sharply. I sigh, shaking my head.

"I could've told you they were pirates the second I saw them in that treasury." Vaan turns to me with bright eyes.

"You're one of them?!"

"Not one of  _them,"_ I reply, nodding toward Balthier and Fran. "But yes, a sky pirate all the same." Flashing a charming smile, I shift my weight onto my left hip. "The name's Shae." Balthier huffs, getting to his feet and pointing a finger at Vaan.

"Listen, thief—Vaan. If you ever want to see your home again, you do exactly as I say." He raises an eyebrow. "Myself, Fran, and you. We're working together now. Understood?"

"And what about me?" I counter, crossing my arms. "I'm not just going to give up and let you both take the claim on that magicite."

"Fine, fine," Balthier scoffs, waving a brightly accessorized hand in the air dismissively.

"Don't even think you're getting this," Vaan snaps, holding the magicite behind him defensively and glaring between the pirates on either side of him. Balthier exchanges a quick glance with his partner.

"The thought never crossed my mind."


	3. Trapped Rats

The water below comes up over my ankles, soaking through my boots. The sewers reek, as expected. Perhaps, if I grew up here, I might've spent much more time playing in this underground wreckage. For now, it's merely an escape route from the cause of my life's troubles: authority. My nose crinkles upon seeing three bodies floating in the shallow water. Balthier hums, looking over their skimpy armor skeptically.

"Insurgents. Most like they thought to take advantage of a lax watch while the fete's on... to feed the good consul a length of steel for his supper." He crosses his arms, tossing a look over his shoulder. "I should think Vayne used to such hospitality."

"Clever," I mutter, earning the questioning looks of the others. "He used himself as the bait to draw them near, and then sent in the air brigade. He looks innocent through the entire ordeal."

"A fine, bloody banquet," Balthier sighs, looking over the loose white sleeves covering his arms. "Hmph. I daresay I've soiled my cuffs. If a dungeon's waiting for us at the end of the night, it had best have a change of wardrobe."

"While I appreciate your deep concerns for your appearance, I do believe we have greater issues at hand," I butt in, shooting him a smug smile. His expression is unamused, annoyed. With a "hmph" he walks past with Fran at his heels.

Hardly a moment after a squeak resonates through the open space, an arrow flies into a massive rat's side. Blood stains the water red as Fran lowers her bow, Vaan gawking shamelessly. Sighing, I pull my spear free.  _So that's how it'll be. Lady Luck, why have you abandoned me?_ Balthier raises an eyebrow, looking me over.

"What?" I demand, resting my free hand on my hip. He shrugs.

"Despite having seen you wield it before, it seems that spear doesn't suit you."

"Well, I suppose you have yet to prove your mental capacity," I retort, watching Vaan fight a smile. Balthier only chuckles.

"With that spirit, I thought you might know how to wear a shirt properly."

Vaan bursts into laughter, pulling a dagger from a short sheathe at his hip and hurrying to kill another rat. Balthier fires his gun with one hand, effectively ending the life of a second rodent. I frown, looking down at the loose white shirt covering my body. Light twine laced across the top of a plunging neckline holds it together; he can't mean that, unless he's a prude that's offended by skin. I know that can't be true, looking at Fran. With that attitude, I doubt he sees much more than that viera anyway. I scoff.  _Says the man with a rainbow across his knuckles._

The sewers are endless tunnels that crawl on forever, smelling of stagnant water and rot. Rats and steelings alike flutter above and below. I skewer a rodent before swatting a flapping annoyance out of my face, watching the steeling collapse to the ground.  _Easy._ Everyone's guard is up, and it's not because of the monsters. I don't care about the thief; these pirates have me on edge. Balthier begins to hum a tune as he strolls, one I vaguely remember but can't place. Fran picks off another rat easily, turning her nose upward.

"A strange scent in the air," she comments. Balthier merely raises an eyebrow, resting his hefty gun on his shoulder

"Today's my lucky day!" Vaan calls, running toward an urn to our left that I would have missed otherwise. The patterns of both merge in a way that leaves me cross-eyed.

The boy throws the deep blue lid into the murky water and digs into the deep pot. I stand a good foot away from Balthier and Fran, glancing at them warily before watching the thief pull a jingling pouch free with a grin. He turns back, grinning proudly at the three of us before running past to lead the way. He slips the pouch into a fold of his sash taking his knives back out to fight a shrieking steeling. 

Shooting the pirates a sly look, I dive forward, rolling to my feet and purposely knocking Vaan onto his face. I "accidentally" catch myself on his back, pushing myself to my feet fifty gil richer. I drop the small, burlap pouch down the front of my shirt, stabbing the steeling from the air. Blood flows down my spear and I flick it off. Balthier shakes his head, amused, as Vaan shouts at me, demanding that I play fair.

"Silence!" Fran hisses suddenly, nodding toward the ledge up above us.

The sounds of a skirmish overpower that of the sewer water, several heavily armored soldiers cornering a woman at the edge of the top floor. Gritting out a battle cry, the woman slashes a sword across one guard's head, his body falling into the water below.

"Who would be next?!" she demands. The soldiers don't back down.

"Close ranks! Bring her down!" one orders, raising his blade defensively.

Vaan, watching the girl back away with wide eyes, rushes forward to offer his help.

"Jump down!" he shouts, waving an arm in the air. I huff, ducking my head when the imperial officers look at us. "Hurry!" The woman looks between Vaan and her enemies, sword raised hesitantly. Finally, she swivels around and makes a leap of faith, arms spread and eyes squeezed shut. I wince when Vaan catches her, the two breathing sighs of relief.

"She's not alone!"

"Our ranks grow by the hour," Fran sighs, staring at the woman. Balthier hurries forward as the guards drop down around us.

"And our troubles with them."

The gate clangs shut behind him; I raise my lance, eyes narrowed on the enemy. If we're to fight them, I suppose it doesn't matter if they recognize me or not. They can't lock me away anywhere when I'm dead. The woman drops down from Vaan's arms, bashing a guard away with her shield and straightening her short, bright pink skirt. I shake my head, blocking a soldier's strike over my head and kicking another man to the ground as he tries to charge from behind. Working quickly, I thrust my spear underneath the first's helmet and rip it free before taking out the other.

Blood stains the water even before Balthier's gun blasts a final shot, diluted but crimson all the same. I sigh, putting my spear on my back and crossing my arms. The woman watches us carefully through cropped blonde bangs, hair brushing over her shoulders when she turns to mark out each of us. Blood drips slowly from a cut in her arm, running along her pale skin and soaking into the guard on her right wrist.

"You alright?" Vaan asks, stepping forward.

"Thank you," she nods, offering a gentle smile.

"Um... I'm Vaan."

"And this is Balthier and—Hey!" he protests.

I turn to see Balthier walking away, stopping with a huff when Vaan shouts at him. Rolling his eyes, the sky pirate waits impatiently. As for me, I only wish to escape this disgusting hideaway and head for a rest at the Sand Sea. A drink would do me well right about now.

"What's your name?" Vaan asks innocently, smiling at the young woman. She frowns.  _Odd._

"Amalia."

"Amalia, huh? Nice to meet you."

I scoff, crossing my arms.  _Can we get this show on the road?_ I have nothing against Vaan making a friend or two, but now is not the time. Amalia turns, pacing a few steps away from the boy.

"There were others with me—"

"I'm sorry," Fran murmurs, shaking her head.

"No..." Amalia breathes, closing her eyes.

I frown as a glow flickers brightly in Vaan's pocket. The boy frowns, pulling the magicite free. It casts a golden glow across his youthful face and my heart practically  _begs_ me to snatch it and run as fast as I can.

"Oh, now isn't that impressive?" Balthier comments, resting his hands on his hips.

"Don't get any ideas. I said it's mine," Vaan snaps defensively.  _But it won't be as soon as I find a way to grab it._

"I'm afraid the jury's still out on that one," the sky pirate counters, cocking his head to the side. Amalia's face falls into a darker expression.

"You  _stole_ that?"

"Yeah!" Vaan replies proudly, holding the magicite out for her to see. It's glow dies at her presence. Fran exchanges a glance with Balthier, turning to the thief with a dry look.

"Have you finished? When the guards don't come in, they'll come looking for us."

"If they aren't already," Balthier adds, straightening.

"The Fates are against me today," I mutter, shaking my head.

"You should come with us," Vaan offers excitedly. "Better than being by yourself."  _We hardly know this woman._ I shrug.  _Then again, we hardly know each other's **names**  and we're stuck together. _Amalia pulls her shoulders back, walking past me and Fran without sparing a glance.

"Very well."

"What's wrong with her?" the boy frowns, watching her go, white shirt swishing around her sides gently. Such a contrast to the more rugged appearances of her new companions. Balthier huffs, looking back at him pointedly, his voice firm.

" _You_ have a lot to learn before we even get started on your thievery."

"What's that mean?" Vaan asks, his head tilted just the slightest bit. Blonde hair falls into his gray eyes as he does so.

"You're less than adequate at your newfound  _hobby_ ," I clarify with a sneer, brushing past him to follow Amalia. Balthier simply sighs, joining with Fran at his side. The fair-haired woman stops walking, turning to face us. Her fingers pull at the tight metal guards covering her legs.

"The situation requires I accept such help as I find, though it be from thieves." She crosses her arms, eyes filled with determination. "I shall accompany until we find my companions. No longer."

"Let's think of her as a guest, then," Balthier utters to Vaan. "She'll leave when she pleases. So, we keep to our affairs and she to hers. I doubt we'll find her wanting in valor, being such an upstanding member of the insurgence."

"Resistance," Amalia corrects, eyes narrowed. "And don't speak as if I'm not here." She straightens, turning to face the sewer passages. "Well, what are we waiting for?"  _You?_

Taking on a steady pace, we head up the next staircase and enter a broad, open room. Already, goosebumps raise on my skin and I can tell something is going to go terribly wrong. As it turns out, I am correct. Over the sounds of running water comes the gurgling of three dirty, yellow flan bubbling up from the stone floor. I watch them cautiously, feeling my heart thud a bit harder at a low growl from above our heads. As if realizing in unison, we look up to see a menacing, gooey grin looking back at us. I roll out of the way with a strangled shout, ripping my spear free as the flan close in on us.

Vaan rushes toward the same flan I do, slicing into its thick, blubbery surface relentlessly. I appreciate his vigor, but it gets us nowhere.

"You, know, there are more than enough targets to spare," I point out, gritting my teeth and forcing my spear into the side of the monster. It cries out in a strangled, warped voice that makes us both visibly cringe.

"Yeah, I know," the boy shrugs, diving in and out with the agility of youthfulness. "But... I thought it might be easier if we team up, yeah? Even if you  _are_ after my magicite."  _And your gil,_  I add silently, grinning.

"What, so you'll let Amalia take one all on her own?" I ask sweetly, nodding toward the woman waving a sword around in the face of a flan. Vaan swivels around, leaving me just enough space to knock him to the ground with a bump from my hip. He scowls at me before rushing to help the newest addition to our escape party. A final jab from my lance leaves the flan melting into a sticky puddle of murky slime.

I turn in time to see Fran scorching the flan she and Balthier take on, the monster's flesh bubbling and burning as it shrieks. A smug smile crosses Balthier's face and he pulls the trigger a final time before his flan falls too. And then he's smacked unceremoniously into the ground, face first, by a strike from the largest flan of the four.

"We all have those days!" I call innocently, blocking the flan's initial blow as I hurry to strike it down. Fran  _actually_ looks the slightest bit amused, though it may just be at Balthier's annoyance. Amalia and Vaan finally rush in, the latter watching in amazement as the viera scorches the flan's flesh and elicits a shriek.

"Whoa!"

"Not much magick where you come from, thief?" I ask, ducking underneath another swat from the flan. Its movements are frenzied now, and I know we have it on its last legs.

"No, there's magick," he replies, rolling to his feet after taking a particularly hard slap to the lower back. "I just don't know any spells."

"That makes two of us," Balthier mutters back, scowling at his weapon when it jams. "Honestly, I'll have to make a point of returning this one, Fran."

"That would be wise," the viera returns, firing an arrow into the flan's eye.  _So close._

Determined to finish it off, I turn and sprint toward the lipped edge of the ledge we fight on, ignoring the confused stares of the others. I jump, my feet striking the short brick wall sealing us in and sending me shooting toward the flan. Clenching my teeth, I drive my weapon down through the top of the flan's head with as much power as I can muster at this clumsy angle. If only the ceiling wasn't so low. No matter. I use my continued momentum to flip to the ground, pulling my lance away with me.

Gurgling a final scream, the flan sinks into itself, leaking bubbling yellow ooze, and slides toward the end of the platform, melting into the water below. I huff, tucking my spear away and meeting the eyebrow-raised expressions of my companions.

"What?" I scoff, pacing past them toward the next set of tunnels. "We've got a sewer to escape, do we not?"

"Show off," Vaan mutters, sheathing his knives and following.

"I do believe you're only upset because you know not how to keep up with the show once you've made an entrance," Balthier replies smoothly.

"I'm not upset," Vaan huffs. That's the end of  _that_ conversation.

We walk through winding tunnels and twisting pathways for what feels like hours. No one speaks aside from Balthier's irritating humming, if that even counts. Amalia sends Vaan a dirty look whenever he opens his mouth; he finally shuts up.

The killing of gigantoads and steelings is tedious until we come across a wider area. An ominous gate blocks our path. Paying it no mind, Amalia pushes it open, leading the way inside. Balthier shrugs at Fran, following. Muttering my annoyances under my breath, I walk into the new area, already gripping my spear.

Surely enough, the gate clangs shut behind us and a burning ball of flame rushes past my head, spinning around the room and diving out into the open. Upon striking the ground, it bursts into the form of a  _nearly_ graceful animal, glowing red and orange with six long appendages floating out from its flaming face. Its burning tail brushes the water and it stumbles onto the walkway, startled. A grating whinny echoes through the room; Vaan's attacking before I realize he's drawn his weapon.

I follow, making sure to keep my distance by staying at the end of my weapon. The creature's skin is rough, cracked like molten rock. Amalia winces each time she gets too close to the heat. Fire spells fly at us left and right, difficult to dodge. Cursing the gods for the fact that I'm still here in the sewers fighting a flaming monster instead of sipping madhu back in the Sand Sea, I plunge my spear into the side of the beast. It nearly throws me to the ground as it screams, bucking around wildly.

Shaking its mane, crazed, a ring of fire bursts up from the ground around it. Vaan cries out, diving into the shallow water nearby to extinguish the flames eating at his clothes. A drop lands on the mare's skin, sizzling. Shouting a frustrated cry, the thief splashes at it angrily. The flaming menace shrieks, bucking. A splash of lava erupts from its back from Fran's arrow and another from a slash from Ashe's sword. Laughing this time, Vaan scoops up water in a bag and dumps it over the monster.

With another burst of flames, the mare rears up on its hind legs and bursts back into a fiery orb, escaping into the dark recesses of the sewer system. Heart pounding in my chest, I breathe a sigh of relief, strapping my spear back into place.

"Well, that was—"

" _Stand where you are!"_

I turn with dread to see an entire row of soldiers on the ledge above aiming guns straight at our heads. My heart jumps to my throat, choking me. Vayne Solidor paces up between the men, looking over us with sharp, ever observant eyes. Upon seeing me, he mere cocks an eyebrow, continuing. Amalia reaches for her sword, stopped only by Balthier's hand.

"Now's not the time," he utters, eyes locked ahead at the soldiers waiting to shoot.

More of said guards head down the stairs to the left, weapons level and ready. Amalia's expression sours; Vaan looks around nervously. Taking a deep breath, I shake my head, ignoring Fran's gaze. Upon Vayne's nod, the guards pair up, one taking hold of one of us and the other keeping his gun poised. I grit my teeth, glaring at the water and forcing down the urge to send an elbow into my guard's armored jaw as he twists my bindings even tighter. I can almost  _feel_ his smile as he looks over my bitter scowl.

"Take them up," is Vayne's last command before he turns and walks away steadily. I glare at his back, burning imaginary holes into his blackened hard.  _Of **course**  it was you. _


	4. Nalbina

_“They’re the thieves who stole into the palace.”_

_“Is that what the commotion last night was about?”_

 

“They think me some common thief,” Amalia whispers bitterly, hands bound before her in thick metal cuffs. Balthier backs up, ducking his head a bit lower.

 

“Better than a common assassin.”

 

“Aren’t the punishments about the same these days?” I counter raising an eyebrow.

 

            Before either can reply, a soldier pushes Amalia forward. Bold as ever, she turns to face the gathering crowds of the streets of Rabanstre’s Lowtown.

 

“These people have done nothing. Release them,” she demands.

 

“What are you doing?” Vaan hisses.

 

“Don’t interrupt me,” she snaps. “I’m thinking.”

 

            The guard pushes her forward, separating us from her. Oh well. It was a good run, I suppose. I look around at the crowds and the people who’ve been dragged into this with me. _What a mess._ It was an in-and-out mission, a simply thievery all ruined by a commoner and a pair of sky pirates. Dern would be split between laughter and disappointment. That is, if Vayne wasn’t right there, arms crossed tightly as he watches his _prisoners_ , proud. He merely eyes Vaan one more time before walking away, head held high.

 

“ _Wait!_ ”

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a guard demands. I turn to see him restraining a girl with blonde pigtails, her face clearly showing desperation as she fights to get past.

 

“He didn’t know what he was doing! You have to let him go! You have to!”

 

“Penelo!” Vaan calls. He raises a half smile, lifting his bindings higher. “Sorry. That dinner’ll have to wait.”

 

“I told you!” she snaps, hurt. I raise an eyebrow, catching Balthier’s eye.

 

“That’s enough!” a soldier by us snaps, knocking a metal brace against the boy’s head sharply.

 

“Hey!” I glower at the man, doing my best to pull the thief to his feet. These Archadians and their ingrained power complexes… Gods _above_ I hate them. _All_ of them.

 

“Leave him alone!” Penelo cries, pushing the guards off her and running toward Vaan. Quickly, Balthier steps into her path, offering a gentle smile and a handkerchief.

 

“Hold onto this, would you?” he asks smoothly. “Just until I bring Vaan back.” I roll my eyes. _This man and his self-identifying heroics._

 

“You, over here!” a soldier demands, glowering at Balthier. The sky pirate sighs, taking his time.

 

“Edgy, aren’t we,” he mutters. The soldier raises his arm to strike at Balthier this time, but I block the blow with my enormous cuffs, eyes narrowed and a sneer pulled across my lips.

 

“ _Down_ , boy.”

 

“Yeah, if you’re so tough, pick on someone who can fight back,” Vaan retorts.

 

“Dalmascan _scum,_ ” he hisses, beating my wrists away and striking my head with the butt of his sword. I stifle a laugh as I stumble back into Vaan, vision fading and a trickle of blood dripping down the side of my face. _**Someone’s** getting punished later. _ The last thing I feel is Vaan pushing my upright roughly.

_~|~|~|~|~_

 

            The sun is hot through the window high above me, sand trickling from higher up every so often. Nothing stirs otherwise. The cell is stuffy, silent, too warm. Balthier sits across the way from me, twisting his rings on his fingers or studying the room with dim green eyes. The smell is horrendous. Rotting corpses, if I had to guess. That, and the prisoners using every corner of this place as a toilet for _years._ However, it’s not all that unfamiliar. A tale for another time, I suppose.

 

            I throw my aching head back against the stone wall, staring up at the ceiling impatiently. Balthier raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something. It’s never said, though, as Vaan groans, lifting his head off the bed of dirty sand he rests on. The sky pirate sighs.

 

“You’re awake,” he points out, his voice light but his tone bored and unimpressed. Vaan pushes himself onto his elbows, squinting through the light to look at the two of us.

 

“Where are we?” he asks, straightening to sit up. Balthier frowns, motioning toward the contents of our cell.

 

“Prison, where else?” I raise an eyebrow and he continues. “More a dungeon, but it’s really all the same.”

 

“The Nalbina Dungeon, to be precise,” I mutter, folding my hands behind my head and shutting my eyes.

 

“Have some experience down here?” Balthier inquires. I shrug. Clutching his head with a wince, the boy stands. 

 

“I suppose so. Certainly more than once.” Smiling, I peel my eyes open and watch the blonde in the center of the cell look around uncomfortably. “In fact, I’m genuinely surprised they keep throwing me down in the same place every time.”

 

            Vaan jumps when a woman outside screams, gasping and begging for help before her voice is stifled and heard no more. He shouts in surprise upon stepping on the limp body of a bangaa directly behind him. Staring at it with wide eyes, he shudders.

 

“Relax, it’s just a corpse,” Balthier huffs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “Jump at every little thing down here and you’ll wear yourself out.”

 

“And there are plenty of little things down here, I assure you,” I add, grinning. Balthier yawns, waving at a fly that buzzes around his face.

 

“It’s not even a proper dungeon. They just sealed off the bottom level of the fortress.” Nonchalant, he nods toward the open door of the room we’ve settled into. “Take a look around. You heard Shae; we’re not the first they’ve thrown down here.”

 

“Where’s Fran?” Vaan asks, frowning as he turns to leave. Balthier stretches his arms over his head. As much as I dislike his “leading man” ideals and his disinterested attitude, I want to laugh at the response his actions are eliciting from Vaan. What a stock contrast: a bundle of nerves and a man ready for a nap.

 

“She’s off trying to find us a way out,” he replies. I sigh, pushing myself to my feet.

 

“Unfortunately, they upped the guard count after my last escapade. Though, it’s more likely due to the presence of the Resistance so close by.”

 

            There’s another strangled cry from outside and Vaan looks back and forth between us and the rest of the dungeon. Balthier shakes his head, meandering toward the boy.

 

“Remember what curiosity killed. Just a friendly word of advice.” He reaches toward his belt, lifting a damp, brown bag. “This is all the water we’ve got. I’d save your strength if I were you.” Vaan shakes his head, leaving the room. Balthier scoffs, putting the water back and glancing toward me lazily. “Do we follow or wait until he finds trouble?”

 

“You do what you like,” I shrug, walking toward the doorway and stretching my arms high over my head. “I’ve got old friends to visit, leads to find. I’m sure you know the drill.”

 

“Ah, yes. I’ll let you be on your way, then.”

 

“Not like you would ever stop me,” I grumble, heading across the sandy floor with my head held high. These filthy murderers, abandoned soldiers, common thieves… They’ve all been thrown into one enormous melting pot. It’s difficult to distinguish one from the other. The best way to avoid being preyed on is to keep your head level and your confidence projected. Even if there is none.

 

After wandering the dim, broad room for several minutes, I find not a single recognizable face in the entire area. _Unfortunate._ Either they were released or they were killed. The latter seems most prominent down here in the pits of Hell. Finally, I catch sight of Vaan heading toward the next narrow passageway and sigh, shaking my head. _I suppose fetching Balthier would do no good now._

 

            The foolish thief is well ahead of me by the time I make it to the arena, peering in at the commotion with my back pressed to the wall of the entryway. Bangaa and seeq alike grunt and cry out, fighting uncomfortably close to Vaan. A group of seeq rush toward a fallen bangaa beating him harshly with makeshift clubs. Blood sprays from his broken skin, flying with every draw-back of a club.

 

“No, don’t!” Vaan cries, just before a dirty, purple seeq slams his weapon down over the bangaa’s skull, ending his life then and there. I cringe, concealing myself and listening in carefully. “He was defenseless!” he protests.

 

Snorts and growls and grumbles draw closer as the killers approach the boy. There’s a loud thump and a round of rough laughter before I can hear the disgusting creatures dragging him away. Gritting my teeth, I turn to one or more… despised options. But only for Vaan and that girl. Penelo was it? It may be ridiculous, but I see a reflection of Dern and myself in the two of them, and that’s not something you let die easily.

 

            I run through the tunnels, dodging confused people and hissing bangaa and skidding to a stop before the room Balthier sits in, still mindlessly staring at the sand. I’m breathing too hard to speak, but he already knows.

 

“It seems our sewer rat has found trouble,” he sighs, pushing himself to his feet and following me back toward the arena.

 

Loud cheers and shouts plan to suffocate me as I resume my previous position, nodding toward the seeq dragging Vaan through the center of the sandy ring. The thief kicks himself free, covered head to toe in dark bruises and shallow cuts. The gates to enter the ring drop shut and three drooling seeq, the same three than killed the bangaa, jump in, waving their clubs. Balthier and I waste no more time in walking toward the edge of the ring, the sky pirate putting on a cocky face and resting a hand on his hip.

 

“Something stinks in here, all right.” He glances over at me, smirking. “I’ve changed my mind. This is no dungeon, it’s a sty.” The largest seeq gurgles out some gibberish spitting and drooling constantly. I cross my arms, rolling my eyes with a hip thrown out to the side lazily.

 

“He said you’re the one who stinks, _hamshanks_ ,” I retort, Balthier cracking his knuckles. Without further hesitation, he leaps into the ring and I’m left with no choice but to follow. Unless, of course, I want the crowds to tear me apart.

 

“You alright, Vaan?” Balthier asks, eyes locked on our blathering targets.

 

            The blonde doesn’t reply, glaring at the seeq that growl at us. Replacing his smug smile, Balthier raises a hand, waving for them to _try_ to take us on. Daring them. Rolling my shoulders, I raise my fists with a grin.

 

“Here piggy, piggy, piggy!” I call, provoking the only orange-skinned seeq. It snarls, taking the bait.

 

Ducking under its first swing, I dive around behind him and strike at his knees. He falls forward, whipping his club at me from behind. The blow catches my elbow but I ignore it, twisting the weapon away and bringing it down over my opponent’s head. Something cracks beneath the club and the bandit goes still. I look up and nearly laugh at the bare minimum damage Balthier is dealing with his fists, careful not to dent his jewelry.

 

“Balthier!” I call, tossing the club to him. He accepts it without a word. Hardly half a minute later, all three seeq are down. Slowly, more bangaa and humes emerge from the shadows, creeping forward with pure expressions of shock. We _killed_ the three terrors of the Nabina Dungeons.  

 

            My adrenaline-charged heartbeat begins to slow, my eyes meeting Balthier’s in the dead silence. I despise authority, being told what to do makes me spiteful, and I’ve always been the first to lead in a difficult situation. However, in this moment, I recognize that Balthier knows something I don’t. I take hold of that advantage firmly when the grumbling prisoners scatter, a loud clang echoing through the room behind us.

 

            The clink of metal fills my ears and I can’t help but feel nauseous at the dreadful sound of the heavy armor. Frowning, I join Balthier and Vaan in the shadows, ducking against the rough stone wall beneath our intruders and praying it conceals well. Balthier peers out from around our hiding place, huffing when he sees four bangaas heading down the stairs toward the soldiers and a man who appears to be a commander of sorts.

 

“Great,” he grumbles. “They just don’t give up, do they?”

 

“Bounty hunters?” I whisper and he nods.

 

“The most persistent lot I’ve ever come across.”

 

            The first bangaa snarls, face covered in piercings and inked designs. He shoves a soldier out of the way, scanning over the empty room irritably.

 

“Now is looking like a good time to leave,” the sky pirate to my left murmurs. The gate beside us creaks ever so slightly and I turn to see Fran waiting on the other side. “You have impeccable timing.” He watches the hunters cautiously as he inches closer. I duck my head a bit lower than necessary, just in case a misplaced hair or two catches the attention of the bangaas.

 

“Through the oubliette, there’s a way out,” the viera says in a low voice. “Only—”

 

“Only you sense the Mist,” Balthier finishes quietly. Fran nods and her partner doesn’t hesitate to drop to the ground, sliding underneath the gap in the gate. “Then we’ll need weapons.”

 

            I follow, crawling through the dust and standing slowly to dust my once-white shirt off. I nearly jump out of my skin when a voice shouts, breaking the silence. Vaan winces, fearing I’ll make noise to raise the alarm.

 

“What did you call me? Say that again!”

 

“What, you couldn’t hear?” the piercing-decorated bangaa snarls, waving a finger in the guard’s face. “I merely said the lot of you are incompetent fools! If you’ve the sky pirate in your hands, where is he?”

_“_ You’d have done better, Ba’Gamnan?” the soldier demands in a high-pitched voice that makes me wish I could slice my ears off on Fran’s deadly sharp heels. “By your own words, it was the Imperial Army who caught this sky pirate of yours. We’ve done your job for you!” His head cocks to the side. “We don’t require the assistance of filthy headhunters. The Empire will restore order here.” The bangaa—Ba’Gamnan—swivels around to face the armored guard.

 

“Eh? What’s that you say now?” He paces toward the source of his annoyance. “Maybe I’ll whet my blade on _you…_ Before I kill Balthier.” The soldiers reach for their swords, stopped only by a stern, echoing voice.

                                                          

“That’s enough, Ba’Gamnan.” A large, heavily armored man steps into the room and goosebumps visibly raise across my skin.

 

“A Judge,” Fran breathes, watching the man carefully. Vaan looks nervous, watching with an intense curiosity.

 

“Judge?”

 

“The self-proclaimed guardians of law and order in Archadia,” Balthier explains lowly, his voice taking on a slight edge. “They’re the elite guard of House Solidor.” Even the _name_ nearly gags me, especially coming from the sky pirate’s lips.

 

“That effectively makes them the commanders of the Imperial Army,” I add under my breath. He nods, glancing back at me. “Most of them, if not all of them, fail to keep that law and order anywhere near justly.”

 

“If you ask me, they’re more executioners than judges.” _You got that right._

 

“Keeping _peace_ through spilling blood,” I huff, shaking my head.

 

“Not a friendly lot, at any rate. What are they doing here?”

 

            The Judge begins to speak once more, his horned steel helmet gleaming in the dim light fo the dungeon.

 

“The Emperor is willing to overlook race for his more talented servants.” _You mean anyone **Vayne** approves of overlooking. _ “However, those that do not show respect will receive none in kind,”

 

“Your honor—” Ba’Gamnan starts.

 

“You travel freely through our lands because the Emperor wills it. Am I correct?” Unable to argue, the bangaa scoffs, turning to look back over the room. Sighing, the Judge paces down the stairs across from our hiding spot and I hold my breath. “Where is the Captain?”

 

“We have him in solitary, Your Honor. We’re ready to begin our interrogation.”

 

“This does not concern you, bounty hunter,” the Judge says sharply when Ba’Gamnan starts to interject. Snarling, the bangaa turns to his accomplices.

 

“He’s in here somewhere! Find him!”

 

“Bwagi, that way!”

 

“I was going _this_ way!”

 

“Time for the hare to follow the fox,” Balthier muses, watching the soldiers leave as the bounty hunters continue to fight.

 

“Huh?” Vaan frowns.

 

“The magicks binding the door to the oubliette are quite strong,” Fran replies. “Too strong even for my talents.” _Confident, aren’t we?_

 

“That’s why we’ll get them to open it for us,” Balthier finishes, hitting Vaan’s shoulder as he walks past him, brushing past me easily.

 

“How’s going deeper into this place—” Vaan starts, only to be cut off when the sky pirate swivels around, irritated.

 

“What’s wrong?” he demands. “You don’t trust her? Viera’s noses are sharp. If she says there’s a way out, there’s a way out.”

 

“I understand it to be difficult to trust people you’ve just met, especially people of _this_ kind,” I shake my head, crossing my arms and nodding toward the pair of pirates. “But Balthier’s right; viera have piqued senses for this sort of thing. We haven’t got many choices, Vaan.”

 

“To be clear, you’re of _this_ kind,” Balthier returns, raising an eyebrow. I shrug.

 

“Of course I am, but I’m not the one with bounty hunters ready to kill all four of us if we're spotted. At least I’ve been careful enough to acquire _sane_ enemies.”

 

“I can hardly help who picks up my bounty.”

 

“But you can help who chases you into hiding and who winds up dead,” I counter, quirking an eyebrow with a light smile. Fran sighs, her ear twitching, and Balthier rolls his eyes, turning to lead the way out.

 

            We start running down the next passageway, hurrying to catch up with the soldiers, only for Fran to skid to a stop. Balthier is quick to notice, turning back.

 

“Look,” the viera calls. Her partner smiles.

 

“Ah! The prison repository of wrested relics and raiments.”

 

“So, our things are in here?” Vaan asks, turning to look at the sky pirate.

 

“That’s what I said,” Balthier counters, on the edge of exasperation with this young thief we’ve picked up. _You might be better off **not** speaking in riddles to the poor boy._

 

“Gods above, there you are,” I breathe, pulling my spear from the pile of the weapons, armor, and bits and bobs around that sort.

 

            The slender pole fits in my hand in the best places, worn from good use both from me and another. The dirt smudged on the vermillion sash at the top makes me frown, but I suppose that means it matches the one tied across my legs now. I swipe the dust off the gleaming red gems in the polearm’s spearhead before looking it over, satisfied. The others finish collecting their thing just as I pick up my mythril dagger and slip it into my tall boot.

 

“Shall we head out, then?” I ask, leaning against my weapon gently. Balthier eyes it like he did the first time I drew it in the sewers. Suddenly defensive, I raise an eyebrow. “I can assure you it’s only red quartz. Nothing worth snagging.”

 

“I wouldn’t try to sell that dirty old thing for more than fifty gil. Most definitely not worth it,” Balthier replies smoothly, if not a bit coldly, before leaving the room with Fran and Vaan on his trail. I roll my eyes, following after a few moments of suppressing irrational anger. _He just doesn’t see the value in anything that isn’t either glittering with rainbows or half-naked._

            Running as fast as I can possibly (silently) run, I barely manage to slip through the unbelievably narrow gap. Balthier moves to keep running, breathing out a short, surprised sound before stopping himself and stumbling back behind a wall. I nearly skid into Vaan, scraping the armor of my left arm against the stone wall when he knocks into me. Vaan tries pushing open the next door while Balthier peers around the corner of the wall. Me and Fran wait somewhat impatiently, our nerves on high alert.

 

“There are more turnkeys than cutpurses down here,” Balthier grumbles. “I’ve had my fill of chains. Let’s… tread lightly, shall we?”

 

“You think I’ll go stomping around to get thrown into that dungeon for the umpteenth time?” I counter, catching his annoyed green eyes. Rolling my eyes, I mutter an irritated addition to my words. “Well damn, you keep looking at me like that, I might just have to...”

 

“Guys, c’mon,” Vaan hisses, elbowing me. I elbow him back, ignoring Fran’s sharp stare.

 

“I’ll lead the way,” Balthier mutters, turning back toward the open room. “Follow at your own risk, but don’t blow my cover if you’re caught, got it?”

 

“Afraid, are we?” I tease, though I must admit, I understand his situation. I’ve been in far too many compromising dilemmas. “Pay attention, Vaan. If a guard turns while Balthier’s going, don’t follow him. Right?”

 

“Got it,” the boy nods.

 

            Balthier and Fran sprint across the momentary burst of light in the midst of the room, taking cover in a deeply shadowed area of a key-station. Checking for guards, I’m quick to follow, ducking low and nearly slamming into the brick wall when a soldier turns halfway through my risky turn. Vaan waits obediently, running only when the guard’s turned away. I beam, knocking his shoulder with a broad smile proudly.

 

            The next time the first two move, it’s a bold dash up the short set of stairs across from us and into the shadows once more. I urge Vaan to go first, watching him bound from shadow to shadow, hot on his little heels. Fran pulls Balthier back at the last second, nodding toward an incoming patrol. I press my back to a column as he walks past, the others hiding just in his blind spot. _But he’ll come back around, won’t he?_

I lean out of my hiding place to see he’s the only guard nearby. I hold up a hand, signaling for the others wait, and then stealthily, completely silently, creep up behind the guard. Just as he moves to turn back, I reach up on either side of his head, twisting and snapping his neck sharply in one smooth, practiced motion. Nearby, there’s an alcove to hide his limp body in.

 

            Upon seeing me return, Balthier gives me an expression of disapproval.

 

“What?” I hiss. “You weren’t moving and he would’ve seen you on his walk back.” I huff, keeping an eye out for soldiers. “And here I was trying to keep an ungrateful pirate out of prison.”

 

            He makes no reply, moving on quickly to the next shadowy passageway. Quickly, we slip past the next round of guards and rush down the next empty hallway as a scattered group, pausing at each break to see, much to our relief, there are no soldiers down this way.

 

            The familiar clink of armor ahead reveals the presence of the Judge and his guards up ahead. I take a deep breath, pressing my back to the wall and staring up at the stone ceiling. Of all the escape efforts I’ve made in my life, this may just be the most dangerous.


	5. Basch the Kingslayer

_~1 year before~_

_“I simply cannot understand why she’s acting up.”_

_My brows are strained, pinched together as tight as an Archadian’s purse. The oil smeared on my fingertips made its way onto my face an eternity ago when I gave up on cleanliness and dove elbows deep into the inner workings of my baby. Her engine rattles terribly and I motion for the power to be cut. Irritation presses into my chest and it’s all I can do not to pull my hair out and scream bloody murder. ** **What could it be?****  Sweat rolls down Dern’s face as he jumps from the side of the Castean, muscles rippling under the beating sunlight and brown hair waving in the gentle, dry wind of the desert._

_“Nothing?”_

_“Not yet,” I sigh, throwing my wrench to the ground and kicking the gritty desert sand into the air. The golden grains catch on the hot wind and blast my face. Dern chuckles while I sputter, crossing his arms._

_“Patience, Shae. Let me see what I can do.”_

_“Have at it,” I reply grimly, falling back onto a scalding, rough rock the color of the old orange peels I forgot outside my camp for a day. ** **Perhaps the skystones are glitching.**** “I knew something was wrong when we left Rabanastre. Should have gotten the Moogle’s—”_

_“I do believe I found the issue.” I sit up with a start, wincing into the blinding sunlight and watching as Dern turns to face me with a broad grin. Between two tanned fingers dangles a mangled ring of gold, dented and crumpled into an odd formation from being crushed between pistons and cogs._

_“Are you…?!” My right wrist is nearly bare, save for the silver bangles twisted around each other. Pure agonizing irritation threatens to choke me and I throw myself back down onto the hot rock._

_“Forget the accessories next time,” Dern laughs, tossing the chunk of soiled gold at my feet. “It may just fetch a pretty price in Rabanastre, you know.”_

_“Much less than it might have before,” I reply, resigned. Shaking his head, he walks toward me steadily and pulls me to my feet. Hiding a smile, he runs the pad of his thumb across his tongue and swipes at a black smudge on my forehead._

_“Have some hope, Shae. It’s something you gravely lack.”_

_I crinkle my nose, recoiling from his touch. The well-muscled man crosses his arms and turns to the horizon, a light, mischievous smile crossing his lips. Sighing, I rest my hands on my hips and fight the urge to grin at his deep, genuine laugh._

_“I suppose we’ll have to get you a new one, Sweetheart.”_

Balthier leans around the corner, watching the Judge and his guards walk down the dim passageway. Vaan catches his breath to my left, Fran watching our backs to my right. I frown, listening to the odd chanting echoing from the hallway Balthier watches, but he still appears indifferent. A blue light casts a glow across the rough stone walls momentarily before flashing brightly and fading.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“They’ve casted a spell to open a door,” Balthier mutters back. “And now they’re heading inside, wherever that leads.” He straightens, leading the way out into the open. I wince upon hearing him crack his neck, Vaan fighting a smile.

“Time to go,” I sigh, watching the soldiers’ backs. Finally, I put my feet into motion, being sure to stay ahead of Balthier. I want to see what the puppets of House Solidor are up to. A steep staircase leads down into the dim light of next room. We line up on the stairs and I cautiously peer around the edge of the wall. Chains and cages dangle from the ceiling; one of the cages begins to rise once a soldier touches a golden control panel. The Judge steps forward, staring up at the dangling man before him.

Pale wrists locked in rusted shackles, the man’s blue eyes hardly peel open. A shaggy blonde beard hangs from his jaw, brushing a body so thin every bone is clearly visible. Somehow, for however long he’s been locked here in what I can only assume is Solitary, he retains a heavily muscled build.

The Judge removes his helmet. From the back of his head, all I can see is short blonde hair eerily the same exact color as the other man’s.

“You have grown thin, Basch,” he comments. Vaan gasps, clutching the wall tighter, eyes narrowed. “Less than a shadow. Less than a man. Sentenced to death and yet you live. Why?”

“To silence Ondore,” comes Basch’s raspy, underused voice. “How many times must I say it?” He looks up to reveal a dark scar drawn across his left eye.

“Is that all?”

“Why not ask Vayne yourself? Is he not one of your masters?” I feel my jaw tighten at that cursed name, watching the exchange and grasping onto every word. The Judge sighs, annoyed.

“We’ve caught a leader of the Insurgence. She is being brought from Rabanastre. The woman Amalia.”  _Well, there’s why we were in such deep trouble with the Empire._ “Who could that be?” Basch frowns, letting his head hang. “Such a faithful hound to cling so to a fallen kingdom.”

“Better than throwing it away,” the man snaps. The Judge shakes his head and puts his horned helmet.

“Throwing it away? As you threw away our homeland?” he counters.

With that, he turns on his heels and paces away toward the opposite end of the room, disappearing down a different hallway with his men in tow. Breathing a sigh of relief, I step out into the open, watching the prisoner cautiously as Balthier brushes by, always the one to take the lead. Basch starts, looking up at us as we walk past.

I tear my eyes away from his. Basch the Kingslayer. The man who singlehandedly ruined the war for Dalmasca. Not that it affected me at all. I prefer to stay outside these sorts of political conflicts. Brings me too much trouble in dealings with others.

“Who’s there?” he demands. Balthier ignores him, peering down into the pit below the cages.

“This the place?” 

Fran throws a hip out to the side, placing her clawed fingers on top. “The Mist is flowing through this room. It must be going somewhere.” Balthier hums, bending down.

“You!” Basch cries. “You’re no Imperials. Please, you must get me out—”

“It’s against my policy to speak with the dead. Especially when they happen to be kingslayers, Balthier counters, raising an eyebrow.

“I did not kill him.”

“Is that so?” Balthier replies, turning to face him finally. “Glad to hear it.”

“The classic ‘I didn’t do it’,” I huff, crossing my arms. “A bit too generic for my tastes.” Balthier scoffs, fiddling with a piece of the iron barrier around the pit.

“Please, get me out,” Basch pleads, turning to Vaan. “For the sake of Dalmasca.” A curious fury burns behind Vaan’s gray eyes. Before I can react, he jumps onto the man’s cage, screaming in his face.

“ _Dalmasca!?_ What do you care about Dalmasca!? Everything that’s happened is because of you!” The ceiling begins to rattle and I exchange a glance with Fran nervously.  _This boy…_  “Everyone that’s died, every single  _one!_ ” His voice grows weak, his head resting against the iron bars he grips. “Even my brother… You killed my brother!”

“Quiet,” I hiss, tugging on the back of his vest. “The guards with hear.” There’s a rattle behind us. Fran storms toward a lever.

“I’m dropping it!” she announces, striking it with her heel.

Instantly, the cage falls a few inches. I take the opportunity to climb on, grabbing hold of Balthier’s extended hand and pulling him up. Fran leaps onto the top just as we begin to fall. My heart jumps into my throat and I cling to the bars, watching the approaching ground for just the right moment. Just before the cage crashes to the pile of rubble below, I dive off, rolling to my feet. It’s not a comfortable landing, but it’s better than the crash Vaan and Basch suffer. Fran and Balthier jumped off at some point, now dusting themselves off.

Basch kneels, clutching his reddened wrists. I feel sick upon seeing the angry, bloody red marks across his broad back, a sight all too familiar. I’m forced to turn away jaw tight. At least until, with a cry, Vaan dives toward him, pinning him to the ground and raising a fist. Balthier catches his arm, throwing him back onto the ground at my feet.

“Spare us your quiddities,” the sky pirate glowers, resting his hands on his hips.

“Yeah but…!” Vaan stutters, glaring. “But he’s a…!”

“A traitor, I know. Stay here and fight, if you want.”

“If you can walk, let’s go,” I huff, glancing back at the freed prisoner.

“You’re taking him with us?” Vaan demands, scrambling to his feet. “Balthier?”

“We could use another sword arm.”

“And you have it,” Basch reassures us, standing. His hair is much longer than I thought originally, but I suppose two years of Solitary in Nalbina will do that to you.  _Especially_ with the Empire. Vaan scowls at the man, turning on his heels and walking out of the narrow passageway. Sighing, Fran shakes her head, following and keeping her eyes on Basch. I catch another glimpse of his scars and gashes and turn away. _I suppose some things never change._

“You’re on edge,” Balthier comments under his breath. “Anything to worry about down here?”

“Just a bit…  _disturbed_  by the Empire’s handiwork is all,” I shrug. “I’ve never escaped this way; we’ll have to see.”

With a curt nod, he follows his viera partner, leaving me to trail behind. From across the room, I spot a rusted round switch on the wall beside a gate. Vaan reaches to touch it.

“Hold on,” I call, interrupting him. “There’s no power.” Leaping across a small gap to the gated pillar in the center of the room, I flip a few switches across a board and insert a hidden treasure from the dirty floor. A light flickers on above the button at Vaan’s side and the lights lining the walls illuminate as well.

“How’d you know to do that?” he frowns. I shrug.

“It caught my eye and I put two and two together.” I flash him a grin. “Labels are a spectacular help.”

“Labels?”

“It was power center with a blown fuse,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “There happened to be another here, so inserted it hoping  _it_ wouldn’t blow and here we are. Satisfied, thief?”

“I guess,” he huffs, hitting the switch.

The gate blocking our path raises and we head further into the tunnels. The next open room contains some sort of large, bright green insect that feeds off a sparking set of wires in the corner.  _Chewing away at our power, no doubt._ The lights flash dimmer.

“Hey!” Vaan protests. “Who turned out the lights? One of  _those_?!”

“I’ve heard of these,” Balthier muses. “Mimics. They disguise themselves as all manner of things, then strike when you’re least wary.”

“Some have a fondness for energy, I’m told,” I nod, eyeing the mimic across the room from us. “They gorge themselves on the stuff until there’s none left and they move on to the next source.”

“So… What happens then?” Vaan frowns.

“Lights out,” Balthier shrugs. “And it’s worse in the dark. Much worse. So, let them get too close to the conduits and they’ll suck it dry.” Vaan opens his mouth to speak but Balthier raises a ringed finger. “Don’t worry. It’ll give the energy back, if you ask nicely. Sticking it with a sword helps too. Clock’s ticking.”

“Then I suppose we beat it,” I retort, pulling my lance free. “Unless you all prefer the dark.”

“Not today, thank you,” the sky pirate breathes, drawing his gun.

Another mimic joins the first and the lights flicker again. Vaan shudders, rushing in to attack the oversized bug. It hisses, batting at him with sharpened claws. Finding no space to move with my own weapon, I conjure up a fire spell and blast the second with a bright wave of heat that illuminates the room in an orange glow. Fran’s arrow meets its mark moments later, whizzing past my ear. The crack of Balthier’s gun is almost instantaneous, making me jump when a spray of yellow blood bursts forth just behind my right arm. I scowl at him, earning another nonchalant expression. The mimic falls to the ground with a weak hiss, collapsing before the power conduit. The lights flicker on, bringing back clear vision as energy flows from the insects to the sparking wires.

“Let’s carry on then, shall we?” Balthier says, stepping past me to lead the way. Basch spares me a glance before following the others, leaving me to glower at the arrogant man’s back alone. The sooner we leave these tunnels the better.

Otherwise, I may just wind up killing another sky pirate. 


	6. Escape

Breathless, Vaan slumps against the rough brick of the tunnel wall, boots propped up against the lip of rusted, old railroad tracks. These likely haven't been used since airships were invented. Fran paces along the wooden planks lining the ground, Balthier watching her steps with a bored expression.

"The Mist seethes," Fran comments, brows furrowed.

"It reeks," Balthier shakes his head. "Something's close."

I lean against a pillar beside Basch as he kneels, pulling armor from the decaying body before him. Flies buzz around as he removes an iron bangle, dropping a grayed hand back to the ground gently. He pulls a cord free from the man's waist, eyeing it.

"Need help tying that mess back?" I offer with a yawn. He glances up at me before shaking his head.

"I can handle it," he replies softly, moving to sloppily wrap the cord around the long, matted mess of greasy blonde hair hanging down his broad back.

I shrug indifferently, shifting uncomfortably around the pole stabbing the length of my back. Basch then stands, now thoroughly armored in what he fits into from the man. He takes hold of the basic iron sword at the man's side, giving it a few experimental swings. A slash hardly three inches from my face leaves me raising an eyebrow, refusing to flinch.

"Nice moves there, Captain," Balthier muses, arms crossed. Vaan pushes off the wall, looking as irate as ever.

"You mean 'traitor'," the thief scoffs, his fair hair waving with every shake of his head.

"So they say," Balthier acknowledges with a shrug. "But I didn't see him kill anyone."

"My brother did," Vaan replies bitterly, glaring at Basch. The captain frowns, turning sharply to look back at the boy.

"Reks," he breathes, voice painfully raspy and rough. "He said he had a brother two years younger." He turns to look Vaan in the eye. "I see. He meant you. Your brother. What became—"

"He's dead," the boy snaps, averting his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

"It was you who killed him!" Vaan shouts, scowling at Basch.

"I give you my word: that was not the way of it." From the older man's tone, though this may make me naïve, I feel as though he's telling the truth. I may know nothing now and he may be evil and a sick, twisted liar, but I  _want_ to believe him.

He goes on to explain a somewhat unlikely tale of a twin brother, a man identical to him who murdered the king and Vaan's older brother, Reks. The crime was then pinned on Basch, the captain supposedly present. In all this, Basch is innocent, a knight fallen from grace and honor, as this  _twin_ roamed free, happy to imprison his brother for a crime he did not commit. However, perhaps it's not all that unlikely. In a world such as ours stuck in a time such as this, not many families avoid torn, ruined, and evil practices. Basch sinks to the floor, arm hooked over his hunched knees.

"A twin brother," Balthier murmurs, pinching his chin between his forefinger and his thumb. "Fancy that." He hums, tilting his head to the side. "But still, the pieces fit. I'll give you that much. And he did look like you."  _Why so much interest in a prisoner all of a sudden?_

"I don't believe you," Vaan says firmly, keeping his back turned to the captain.

"Of course not," Basch sighs. "It was my fault Reks was there." He hangs his head, staring long and hard at the armor on his wrist. "I am sorry."

"My brother, he trusted you," Vaan grits, hands clenching into fists. "He trusted you, and he lost everything. How can I believe you?" I wish I could open my mouth to speak, to explain to him that trust means you have bet it all. You win everything or you lose everything. So far, I've been on my fair share of the losing team, but holding a grudge never helped anyone. Instead, I watch Basch push himself to his feet.

"Not me, then. Believe in your brother." The captain stares at the wall as he speaks, blue eyes narrowed. "He was a fine soldier. He fought to the last to protect his homeland. No. Surely he fought… to protect his brother."

"You don't know anything!" Vaan shouts, swiveling around to glare at Basch. Fed up, I shake my head.

"It doesn't matter  _now,_ Vaan. It's not the time nor place for a fight over who's done what in the past _._ "

"Believe what you want to," Balthier interjects, stepping between Basch and Vaan. "Whatever it takes to make you happy." He turns to walk away, muttering under his breath, "Shae's right; what's done is done."

"Finally he admits it," I tease, grinning. Balthier sighs, shaking his head, but he keeps walking.

We follow the path through winding underground tunnels carved from stone, dirt, and brick, swarmed by the occasional cluster of mimics. Vaan learns his lesson and leaves the variety of glittering green urns alone after several unfold into metallic insects twice his size. Basch does more than his fair share of damage with a weapon, controlled and graceful even after so many years of inactivity.

We enter another empty passageway; I shudder, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Fran seems to sense it too, her tan-tipped ear twitching at the slightest of sounds. Despite my inhibitions, I continue with the others, heading into a circular room with my hand itching to grab my spear. There's an odd sound from above and Vaan has to scramble backward to avoid being coated in dark green slime. Several of those urns he chose to avoid now reside beneath the thick stream of liquid. The smell is nearly awful enough for me to gag.

I follow the trail up only to realize when it came from. A mimic practically the size of the room stands before us, nudging an urn until it unfolds, stomping around beneath her with toothpick-thin legs. The mimic shrieks, sending forth a blast of green light that leaves the room dimming and the walls sparking. I step out of a baby's way as it hurries to feed off the energy conduit.

"A queen in her hive," I huff, pulling my lance free. "Disgusting."

"You have something against royalty?" Balthier asks, raising his gun and firing at a smaller mimic that begins to charge toward us.

"Perhaps," I shrug, walking past him to join Basch. "Or I just despise  _bugs._ "

The fallen knight and I team up on the mimic queen while Vaan and Fran manage her swarm of spawns. Balthier… I'm not sure what he does. The sandaled sky pirate wanders from point to point, occasionally sending a shot from his horribly loud firearm. I roll out of the way of a pointed foot, jabbing my spear up into the underside of the queen. Rattling out a metallic shriek, her sharp legs stab rapidly across the room, nearly chopping off Vaan's toes. Basch slices at one of her legs, hacking through the clawed end and leaving her lopsided.

Sparks ripple along her multicolored body, zapping between the joints of her appendages and shooting toward the walls. Taking a deep breath, I conjure up a handful of flames, sending the burst of heat into her body. The sparks snap to a stop, flooding the air with static electricity. The flames lick at her flesh, burning at her appendix while she swivels left and right, trying to put the fire out.

Fran watches a moment before sending in her own, far more powerful version of the spell. Screaming, the mimic knocks into walls and skitters back and forth wildly. I dive into an alcove by the locked gates, careful not to touch the metal for fear of being shocked. Basch and Vaan join me, watching the mimic shriek its last before falling to the stony ground engulfed in magick induced fire.

The floor shudders, weakened stone and wood crumbling from the ceiling. I bolt to my feet, sprinting through the opening gate hot on Balthier's heels. Above, bricks collapse, dropping heavily around us as we run in an unorganized cluster.

The light of day is nearly blinding up ahead, burning my eyes as we break out into the open. I take a deep breath of fresh air and squint out into the bright desert sands. It's a scene I'm all too familiar with, these barren parts of Ivalice.

"To think Dalmascan air could taste so sweet," Basch muses, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to soak in the warmth of the sun.

"Where are we?" Vaan asks, turning to Balthier. I cross my arms, leaning my weight on one hip.

"Outside Nalbina, of course," I reply, the corner of my mouth etching itself into a slight smile. "And that means we're in the Estersand. Rabanastre is due west."

"Let's head back before we shrivel up," Balthier replies, eyeing the boy before turning to Basch. "By your leave, Captain."

"Yes, the hour of my return is already over late," the man nods, turning to face the rest of us. "The people may hate me, but that does not free me of my charge."

"Your charge?" I raise an eyebrow, watching him pace the sandy stone outside the Nalbina dungeons. "You've been  _dead_ for two years."

"Then they're in for a bit of a surprise," Balthier replies in a matter-of-fact voice, nodding toward Fran before heading down the slope of our ledge.

Sighing, I shake my head, reaching up to brush back the hair that's escaped my long, loose braid.  _I suppose a free sword arm or two wouldn't help in my return._ I watch Vaan as he continues his walk away.  _That magicite… I need it, but I suppose I can do without…_ Squaring my bare shoulders, facing the sun, and raising my chin, I follow the others, determined to break away as soon as possible. The adventure was fun, but this resistance and the pirates scream trouble and Imperial attention, both of which I receive far too much of as it is. No, I'm better off on my own for now.

Right off the bat, a scrawny pack of auburn wolves rushes toward us, only to be quickly dispatched by both blade and bullet. The sunlight overhead burns against my skin, but it's a good burn that leaves me glowing with an energy I haven't had in ages. Pacing a rented room in a bar does little calm nerves before a thieving job. A job that went horribly wrong and left me in a dungeon with a ragtag team of pirates, a thief, and a rumored traitor. At this rate, I'm better off running again, just as I always do.

A fat bird or two waddles past, watching us with beady eyes and greedy beaks, but they make no move to attack. We carry on in silence, Basch swiping at the sweat on his brow and Balthier fussing over his cuffs. I look around at the towering vermillion rock formations surrounding us and my stomach floods with dread.  _Where did it happen? I can't even remember that much…_ I shake my head, watching Vaan ogle Fran not very subtly.

"How much longer?" the boy finally whines, folding his hands behind his head as he walks as if he's created some sort of pillow for his messy blonde hair. "It's hot out here."

"Suck it up," I reply dryly, staring at a cracked, heat-worn wooden cross in the distance, standing at an awkward angle.  _So many fell out here to the heat, to the monsters, to the bloodshed…_ "We're nearly there."

"Are we really?" he asks, raising an eyebrow after swiveling around to take his steps backward. "Or are you just saying that to get me to—" His words are cut off with a sharp cry as he falls to the ground, stumbling over a rough, short rock. I contain my laugh and walk past, careful to spray a little sand in his face as I do so. Just a little.

"Hey!" he shouts in protest, sputtering and scrambling to his feet.

He rushes toward me; I step to the side at the last moment, sneering as he falls face first into the sand. Balthier suppresses a smile, continuing his headstrong walk toward Rabanastre. Fran's ear twitches in what I read as amusement and Basch merely sighs. Vaan groans, catching hold of the bright orange sash across my thigh as I walk past, tugging hard. I nearly stumble onto the ground next to him, stifling a startled cry when he really does pull me down.

"You bloody  _prick_!" I snap, diving on top of him and pressing my knee into his chest, hands pushing his shoulders into the ground. "You're lucky you…!"

"Come, come, children," Balthier calls, turning to smile smugly at the two of us. "Now's not the time nor the place. Perhaps you can meet up at the Sand Sea later, but first, we return to the city."

"Damn you," I hiss, standing and stepping on the thief's wrist on my way for good measure. I cannot  _wait_ to lose them.


	7. Deals and Acquaintances

The sun slowly begins to turn itself over our heads, signally the oncoming afternoon. The heat swelters around us, raising ripples of heat waves across the ground. Even Balthier's face has reddened a bit, beads of sweat trickling down the side of his tanned face. Fran, in that metal getup of hers, looks uncomfortable at best. I manage to haggle a drink from Vaan's canvas water bag off of him for a few gil, the very same gil I stole from him in the sewers. That replenishes my energy enough that I'm leading the group, running here and there to see the sights of familiar desert blooms or rock formations. Familiarity brings both joy and sadness and I'm not sure how to handle it but when the others start to poke with their noses, I back off.

Finally, the city looms on the horizon, reviving my traveling companions. Soon enough, the hard green brick of the East Gate meets the heels of my boots and I nearly shout a cry of relief, wishing I could throw myself at the nearest bangaa and strangle him in a hug. This whole fiasco is over and it's time for me to find my older purpose: rebuilding my life's work from the very beginning. By life's work, I mean a mere four years, but that's a fifth of my life at this point, so I'll count it.

"I thank you," Basch finally says, tearing his eyes away from the city to look back at the four of us. We come to a stop, gathered in a not-quite circle. Balthier rests his hands on his hips.

"I'd avoid crowds if I were you. In this town, you're still a traitor, you know."

"The Resistance will surely find me soon," the captain mutters, looking back at the broad, solid iron gates leading to the city. He turns to face Vaan. "Fates willed that we meet again. I would pay respects to your brother." With that, he turns and leaves us to face our own tribulations. Balthier turns to Vaan.

"You're a fugitive now, too. Stay low for a while." He glances at me, staring at the spearhead towering over my own head for a moment. "I suppose you're used to being on the run by now." He nods toward Fran and the two start to leave. Vaan frowns.

"Wait! What about the stone?"

"Do as you like," Balthier mutters, tossing a glance over his shoulder. "That stone's ill-favored."

"We feel regret," Fran continues. "We sought that stone and found ourselves only worry."

"You offering it?" Balthier asks, watching the boy carefully with sharp green eyes.

"It's mine," Vaan replies firmly.

"Then why'd you ask?" Balthier grumbles, turning forward. "Our regards to your girl."

"Then there's no need to pick another fight," I point out, motioning to the two pirates. Fran stands a moment longer.

"We stay in Rabanastre a while," she explains, looking back and forth between me and Vaan. With that, she's on her way, taking long strides on her tall, sharp heels.

"The best of luck to you," I smile, bowing dramatically. Vaan grins, nodding.

"Yeah. You too, I guess. Have fun… pirating."

"We'll see about that," I huff, nudging his shoulder. "Take care, Vaan. Don't get yourself into too many more heists. I won't be there to dig you out of Nalbina next time."

He doesn't bother to point out the fact that  _Fran_ found our exit point as I leave, taking my time so I can lose Fran and Balthier in the crowd. I hope to never see either again. The likes of them always keep me on edge. And the way Balthier practically  _mentored_ Vaan… It almost worries me that the boy will take it too seriously and wind up in the worse kind of trouble. I head toward the bizarre of Rabanastre, meandering through the crowds and taking care to let my loose, sun-bleached hair hide my face.

A bangaa yells about some clan specials, a man and a woman advertise bolts of cloth and handmade rugs. A girl on the corner dances with a bright smile on her face, earning a young admirer now and then. Two boys run past with loaves of bread clutched in their bony hands, a man chasing after them with a shout for help. He's duly ignored by everyone, myself included. No, I'm done involving myself in everyone's business. Every time I offer my help or abilities, things go awry. I dare to lift my face up, to look across the crowd and over peoples' shoulders. Eyes as bright as the sun and as blue as the deep ocean stare directly back at me.  _Speak of the devil._

Pretending I didn't see, I hide my face once more, stopping by a seeq and pretending to be interested in his  _special potions._ I honestly don't hear a word his gruff voice says, my mind running a million miles an hour. I can't unsee those eyes. I can't unsee what they used to be. I can't unsee the past. Muttering some excuse about how I forgot my coin purse in another shop, I hurry away, flowing with the crowd leaving the bizarre. Never have I been so grateful for the immense amount of people crowding this market daily.

Unfortunately, my luck runs dry at that and I'm left walking quickly down the streets. I avoid Imperials at all costs, cutting through alleyways and hurrying toward the safest area in this city—supposedly. I rush through a long line of stores, catching a glimpse of his frame ten feet behind me in a window and pick up the pace. My ears pick up on the sound of Vaan's muffled voice but I keep going until I push through the double doors of the Sand Sea. Patrons fill the tavern as they always do, gathered at tables, counters, and billboards.

Hoping to see a balcony full of Imperial guards, I push past a cluster of laughing Dalmascans and hurry up the stairs to the second level of the tavern. My heart sinks when I'm met with regular patrons seated at tables and with two  _unfortunately_ familiar faces in the back, both seated before a green glass bottle. Heart pounding my chest, I weight my options with my lips pursed.

Upon hearing a shout of protest against a shove, I step into motion, lifting my chin and heading toward the sky pirates, though I know my face is white as an Archadian's silk sheets. I know Fran knows it too when our eyes meet for a brief moment. At that exact moment, a fist takes hold of my shirt and jerks me backward like I'm nothing more than a ragdoll. Sharply, I'm shoved back against the rough wall, a forearm blocking my view of the only people I recognize in this place. Those blue eyes narrow on me, all too close as he hovers over my face, live wires of hatred and joy in his sadistic toying. I take a deep breath, tearing my eyes away from him and trying to see past his broad shoulders only to be met with nothing but  _him._

"Listen, I'm terribly sorry. I meant to pay up on time but things went to hell before I could get the ma—"

"Rumor has it you were thrown in Nalbina," he practically  _croons_ , tracing the back of a tanned finger across my jaw to move my hair from my face. "I do believe you're becoming quite the escape artist." He tilts his head to the side, that youthful grin that once belonged to a joyful, innocent boy taunting me with its bitter cold gleam. He shakes the long, fair strands of hair out of his face in one quick motion, eyeing me like I'm his prey. At this moment, I suppose I am. "Unfortunately, that doesn't pay back any of your debts, now does it,  _Shae_?"

"And this does?" I demand, instantly regretting it when he draws his face closer and forces me to cower like a frightened child. Because what am I, really? I never outgrew the urge to keep running; this is the price I pay.

"You know how to hold me down in these situations," he continues, his breath, smelling of some sort of sweet fruit, fanning over my breath gently. He's so close I could count each spot in the smattering of freckles spread across his nose. "How to  _convince_ me. Don't you?" That brilliant smile flashes again and I shudder upon feeling fingers trace along my spine, raising goosebumps with each touch of his unwelcome skin against mine.

"Don't you ever change?" I ask carefully, my voice low, my eyes pleading. It's as if those bright blue eyes lock me out, merely deflecting wide, frightened pools of honey brown back to me.

"Not as of late, thankfully," he murmurs, his smile melting into a smirk. I place a firm hand on his chest without realizing, a subconscious effort to stop him both in word and action. He only raises an eyebrow. "Don't you remember what happens if you refuse any method of payment  _I_ propose?" His lips move down toward my ear, forcing another shudder through my panicked body. I feel his slender fingers wrap around the end of my braid, snapping my head backward. "It only takes one report to the guards, Shae, and you're a  _goner._ "

"Jonan." I despise the pleading in my voice. "I only need—"

"More time, I know," he sighs, shaking his head. For someone so young he's truly developed his own stubborn way of doing things, especially when they only benefit him. "But the clock's done ticking, Shae. You still go by that these days, don't you?"

I want to punch that grin off his face, stab through those eyes with the tip of my spear. But I know what that would bring on and it's much worse than  _payment._

"I thought you were smart enough to know to change your identity every once in a while, hm?" He sighs dramatically, playing with the laced front of my loose shirt. The grip on my hair lessens gingerly. "Then again, that was my fault. You were never as bright as I made you out to be as a boy."

"You're still a boy," I choke out, scowling up at him.

"Have you forgotten? One call is all it—"

"That's quite enough of that."

I clamp down on my cheek, wincing when Jonan's fist tightens around my braided hair yet again, every muscle tensing at a voice I find all too familiar. The young man tosses a glare over at the older sky pirate who stands behind him, arms crossed tightly. Then he chuckles, looking back down at me.

"I see. You've earned yourself quite a few debts to pay, my dear." Jonan doesn't budge, raising a blonde eyebrow at Balthier. "Mind your own business. It's merely a piece of a deal we worked out  _years_ ago."

"Is that so?" Balthier raises an eyebrow. "Good for you. However, I wouldn't suppose you were careful enough to cover your tracks in your search for her." At Jonan's frown, Balthier continues smugly. Fran stands just behind him, daring the boy to make another move.  _They're only getting me in more trouble._ "I heard the name Jonan just now. From your friend here, of course." He nods toward the lower level bar. "But also from a group of pigheaded bounty hunters below." A proud smile turns upward across his face. "Now, I do believe the stupid one here is  _you._ It's better to have an overused façade than to maintain one's true identity."

"Damned imbecile," Jonan hisses, shoving me hard against the wall once more for good measure before pushing his way past Balthier with a grumble about his return.

My heart sinks into my stomach and my palms sting as my nails dig into my flesh. The doors to the bar slam shut moments later, Jonan disappearing. For now. When he returns, my life will return the living hell it was before I promised to bring him the magicite. I had no idea he'd be waiting  _here._

"I suppose it's too hard for you to speak your gratitude, so your silence will suffice," Balthier says, breaking the silence. My tight jaw hardly loosens as I glare at him, wanting nothing more than to drive my spear through that pompous expression.

"Oh yes. I'll thank you now before I'm  _murdered_ in the night." I cross my arms so tightly I think my forearms might bruise. "You've only made my life about thirty times more difficult in a mere two minutes. If it's congratulations you want, I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere."

"Is that so?"

"He wasn't lying about the deal," I snap. Fran eyes me with an edge in her expression, ready to strike should I lash out. "You weren't meant to be involved in any of my affairs past escaping Nalbina."

"What could you possibly owe that drives a boy like  _that_ to such a power-starved state?" he nearly demands, though his voice never leaves its calm edge.

"That's none of your goddamned business," I growl, moving to leave. He steps in my way eyebrow raised.

"I do believe you owe me  _something_  after—"

"I owe you nothing," I glower, staring unrelentingly into his green eyes with all the willpower I can muster.

"Not even a sliver of the story?"

"Not even a particle."

"Then a crumb will do," he replies simply, taking hold of my arm and pulling me toward the table he and Fran sat at when I first entered. I give up on fighting; I could use a good seat for a minute or two to steady my spinning head and crazed nerves. I sit across from the two, glaring at my hands.

"Fine. You want a particle?" I take a deep breath, shaking my head. "I was a young  _fool_ and I singlehandedly destroyed his life."

"How young?" he asks boredly, twisting the glass bottle before him on the rough table and watching the gleam of the tavern's lights shine across it.

"I already gave you what I deemed you worthy of receiving," I reply shortly, glaring up at him. He meets me gaze as if I'm nothing more than a pouting child.

"Ah, a mysterious one, aren't you?" He exchanges a glance with Fran. "Fine, then. Tell me how old you are now instead, as a point of reference."

"Reference for what you won't ever apply?" I retort.

"People of your sort aren't hard to piece together."

"You think you know  _so_ much," I scoff, leaning back in my seat. " _I_ can't even figure it all out. Good luck, Mr. Fate." He rolls his eyes and Fran's ear twitches, though her eyes betray her curiosity. After a long moment of silence, I break, all four feet of my wooden chair hitting the floor. "Twenty."

"Pardon?"

"You asked my age for utterly useless reference," I shrug. "Twenty."

"Older than I expected," he mutters, a sly expression overtaking his features. "Though, that doesn't completely mark out my suspicions about you and that thief, Vaan."

"Suspicions?" I frown. The new look in Fran's eyes pieces it together for me and I nearly gag. "Fates above,  _no!_ Vaan? Never." I shudder, scoring an amused smile from the sky pirate. "He's still a  _kid._ "

"As are you, judging by your actions."

"Oh, let me guess," I scoff, shooting a dry, unamused look at Balthier. "You're secretly old enough to be my grandfather and just wise enough to hold Ivalice's every secret?" His smile remains where it is as though he's clearly enjoying my riled state. "That's not a nice war strategy, you know. Knowing everything and then keeping it all to yourself. You should at least let Vayne Solidor know how he'll win this bloody war."

"Sore subject right there," he mutters, though he accepts my joke as it's meant to be accepted and takes a long, slow drink from the cheap bottle of madhu he's been playing with. Fran nudges him and he sighs, setting the bottle down.

"The bet's not over yet, Fran. It's still possible for them to find a connection."

"The bet was determined by the fact that there was already a connection," the viera replies simply, one platinum eyebrow arched high. Balthier rolls his eyes, a jingling burlap pouch hitting the table seconds later. Fran takes it in one easy swoop, a twitch in her ear that's different than the one from earlier. How long has Balthier had her around, I have to wonder, with how well he can read her? She's the densest case I've stumbled across in my time.

"You made a bet on my and Vaan's  _connection?_ " I eye the bottle before Balthier, snatching it up before he can stop me. "How utterly  _bored_ can you be whilst killing Imperials and insects?"

"Aren't they all the same?" Balthier replies, eyebrow raised but eyes narrowed on his drink now that it's in my grasp. I shrug, downing the rest of the madhu in one go. A flavor so familiar it washes a wave of memories so happy that their nostalgia drowns me and I suddenly feel as if I'm choking. I set the bottle back down a bit too hard, leaning back and shutting my eyes.  _Gods, what would you do if you saw me now?_

"That may just cost you another crumb."

"Why're you so interested?" I half-demand, too exhausted by the sudden mix of emotions to sound the least bit convincing. All I see is images of Jonan, both the boy he used to be and the monster I molded him into.

"I'm merely one step from figuring you out," he responds. I can almost hear Fran's " _sure"_ expression. "It's on the very tip of my tongue."

"What've you got so far?" I ask, sitting back up but keeping my eyes glued to the table. Before he can answer, we're interrupted by that desperate voice that forever changes the course of my fated future.


	8. Of Ransoms and Reunions

“You must be Balthier!” I turn in my seat to see a bangaa behind me, dressed head to toe in merchant’s linens and leathers. His dark eyes are panicked and enraged. “There’s been a ransom on  _my_ dear Penelo and your name is posted on it!” His claws waves in front of his face and Balthier slouches lower in his seat and his composure is kept well.  _Penelo? Vaan’s girl?_

“This is all a grave misunderstanding,” Balthier says smoothly. The bangaa snarls weakly, a violent spirit not quite engraved in his obviously gentle nature.

“You are  _Balthier_ and they sent after her with  _you_ as the ransom!”

“As I said, a misunderstanding,” comes the calm reply.

“Misunderstanding!? What I am understanding is they took Penelo because of you!” the bangaa snaps, his rough voice raising.

“What? What about Penelo?” I sigh upon seeing Vaan, my head spinning yet again from trying to understand the unfortunate circumstances surrounding me.

“Oh, Vaan!” the bangaa cries. “They’ve taken Penelo!” He turns to glare at Balthier with his dark, angled eyes. “And there was a note—a note for this  _Balthier!_  Come to the Bhujerba mines, it said.” Fran sighs, straightening.

“It’s Ba’Gamnan. He was in Nalbina.”

“If anything were to happen that sweet child—why, I’ve her parents’ memory to consider!” The bangaa’s eyes grow fierce. “You’re going to go to her aid and that’s that! It’s what you sky pirates do, isn’t it?”

“I don’t respond well to orders,” Balthier replies sharply. “You do know that the Imperial fleet is massing at Bhujerba?”

“Fine, then I’ll go!” Vaan offers, desperate. I shake my head, leaning forward to catch his eye.

“Alone? Vaan, that’s far too dangerous. Those headhunters are  _mad._ ”

“Then come with me,” he fires back. He looks at me and Balthier. “You guys at least have airships, don’t you?”

“I’ve been without wings for some time,” I admit, sinking lower in my seat. “Otherwise I would.” The memory of the  _Castean’s_ rumbling life and warmth nearly makes me want to burst into a screaming tantrum about how this just  _isn’t_ fair. Vaan turns to Balthier.

“Fine.  _You_ just get me there, and I’ll find Penelo myself.”

“I’ll join you,” a man offers. It takes me several seconds to realize it’s Basch, with freshly trimmed hair, a clipped beard, and new, cleaner armor. I scan over the new captain and give my mental approval. “I have some business there as well.”

“An audience with the Marquis, by chance?” Balthier asks with a renewed interest, a sly smile tugging at his lips at the end of his words.

It reminds me just how much this man is in this for his own personal gain, save for a few scraps he trails behind for Fran. It reminds me how much I truly despise him despite his humor and his charms. I suddenly feel suffocated sitting between him and his viera. There’s a dead silence that follows before Vaan shakes his head, holding up the glowing orange magicite he stole from the treasury only a matter of a few days ago, at the very most. It feels like yesterday alone was  _ages_ ago.

“Balthier, just take us and this is yours,” the boy pleads.

“The gods are toying with us,” Fran practically groans. Balthier sighs, giving in and pushing himself to his feet. Fran follows reluctantly.

“Make yourselves ready. We leave soon.”

I eye the crystal in the thief’s hands and dare to toy with the thought of snatching it and running for half a moment before shaking my head and leaning back in my seat. I stare at Fran’s half-empty bottle, settled beside a thin glass.  _I suppose she’s done now, isn’t she?_ Vaan hurries to catch up with Balthier and Fran only to pause and look back at me, watching me stare longingly at the drink across the table with a boulder in my gut.  _Can’t wait for Jonan._

“I take it you’re not coming.”

“No,” I reply dryly.

I want nothing more to do with them. If I get caught in the chain now, it’ll be one thing after another before we’re too tightly packed to leave the middle. Balthier is really the only one I can’t stand; that’s not the issue. The longer I’m with them, the more the Empire associates them with me. I’ve been through this all before. I’m not digging any more graves. I’m not leaving on any more adventures. I’m can’t… _Wait._

Vaan is halfway down the stairs by the time I stand, running to catch up. He looks startled but pleased with himself.  _This is my ticket out of here._ Basch doesn’t question why I’m joining them, but he watches me with wonder in his tell-tale eyes as we leave. The bangaa follows us out before calling a goodbye to Vaan and heading back down the streets.

“I’m gonna go pick up some potions,” the boy announces, turning and running back toward the bangaa merchant.

As we traverse, I stop to lose the three remaining and casually lean across a wooden stand when its vendor turns away, resting my palm on a tome-marked book. The energy from its surface bleeds into my skin, soaks whispers of magick into my mind. The merchant growls, beating me away with shouted threats but he’s too late.  _Thanks for the free ice spell._ I grin, dodging people and heading for the aerodrome at a steady pace.

Balthier’s hesitation makes perfect sense, I suppose. Who would walk straight into a death trap formed by your mortal enemies for the sake of a life you’ve never truly seen for what it was? If he was to die, his death wouldn’t exactly be legendary. Balthier doesn’t strike me as a man who wants a death as simple as a bullet to the head or a blade to the throat. No, he’d look for more explosions and fire than anything. Still… What bothers me is the  _bribery._  And it shouldn’t. Am I not a pirate too? A thief, a gambler, a murderer, a cheat, and a heartless bastard who runs at the nearest sight of danger merely to mock my enemies and their pain? Why, then, do I find myself wishing I could tear his narcissistic head off? I sigh, ruffling my hair as I step into the aerodrome at last.  _What was in that madhu?_

The bustle of the port feels natural and right as if nothing ever changed and I’m here ready to board the  _Castean_ after a long day of drinking and shopping around and joking with Dern. For a minute or two, I let myself believe that lie, refusing to turn around where I know I won’t see broad shoulders and a bright grin and instead taking in the smells, the sounds, the sights.

People bustle here and there, chatting the whole way. The whole area smells of leather and machinery and mixed colognes. Just as I take a deep breath and feel a smile creeping onto my face, I meet Balthier’s eyes and I’m slapped back into reality where there is no  _Castean,_  no joy, no peace. He watches me approach as if he’s never been more bored in his entire life, arms crossed and hips rested against the firm brick wall behind him. Basch and Fran wait by the wide window, the captain talking to tall ears in a low but somewhat amicable voice.

“I see you’ve decided to join us,” Balthier says, cocking his head to the side just the slightest bit. “Whatever for, if you don’t mind me asking?” He raises a finger. “Nevermind that, don’t say a word. You’re getting away from Jonan.”

“That’s part of it,” I shrug defensively. “More of an added bonus, though.”

“Bonus to what?”

“No more crumbs for you,” I reply firmly, forcing a smile. Something past me catches Balthier’s eye. Upon turning, I see Vaan, the  _endearing_ magicite thief.

“I suppose as long as you don’t cause me any trouble I don’t mind bringing you along,” he mutters, meeting my eyes. “And I most certainly don’t mind leaving  _you_ behind, if anything.” Vaan joins us then, so I shut my mouth, swallow my witty reply, and listen to what the sky pirate has to say, though it’s nothing I don’t know from personal experience or from Dern.

“Bhujerba’s on the sky continent of Dorstonis, and the magicite mine we’re looking for is there. If we’re going to save the girl, we start there.” He raises an eyebrow, watching an array of emotions flit across Vaan’s face. “You ready to leave?”

“I’m ready.” Vaan nods confidently, turning to face the window in a fit of excitement. This must be the first time he’s been so close to airships, and most definitely the first time he’s been able to  _ride_ one.

“We make for the Lhusu Mines then,” Balthier explains. “Seems I took on more baggage in Rabanastre than I planned… Well, let’s save your girl and be done with it. Come on.”

“If by baggage you mean us, I’ll have you know I’m a carry-on,” I reply, fighting a smile. “Throw me in the belly of the beast and you may just find a few organs missing by the time you’ve landed, understand?”

“You truly are an interesting addition to the tale,” Balthier sighs, motioning for the others to follow him.

The hangar is massive, steely and solid. Inside is an elaborate model of an airship full of bursts of gold, silver, and red, and well-designed parts just waiting to be pulled to pieces. I nearly choke on the urge to run and dig through all her parts, to find what really makes her stop and go. Every little segment of her frame is part of a mysterious island I have yet to explore and I want to trace over every inch as long as I won’t miss anything. But… Considering the proud expressions on Balthier and Fran’s faces, I highly doubt that will  _ever_ happen. But  _Fates_ would it be good to be covered in grease from the elbows down again.

“This is the  _Strahl_ ,” Balthier announces, hands on his hips. I give a low whistle, arms crossed.

“Color me impressed,” I murmur, still practically undressing the ship with my eyes.

“She airship enough for you?”

Bursting with excitement, Vaan shoves Balthier’s elbow out of the way and rushes toward the ship. To my surprise, he takes hold of my arm, dragging me with him. I’m not offended though, letting a bit of my childish energy go as I stare at all the details the boy is too inexperienced to appreciate. I’ll let Balthier be prideful about this one; she’s gorgeous.

“The  _Strahl…_ You really are a sky pirate!’ Vaan cries, turning around to grin at Balthier.

“Well, the headhunters seem to think so,” Balthier grumbles. The hatch drops down and so does a trio of moogles. “What’s the good word? Is she ready?” The first moogle squeaks a simple affirmative, leading the other two off the ship and into the hangar. I wave as they go by, smiling back when one beams at me. Vaan finally seems to find his voice, jumping around and shooting rapid-fire questions.

“So, is she armed? How fast is she? Could she take the  _Ifrit?_ ”

“And I hate to join  _him,”_ I cut in, nodding toward the boy behind me. “But what sort of skystones is she running?” Balthier stops at the top of the ramp ahead of me.

“I suppose I could tell you, but…” he pauses, turning to usher us on board and flashing a charming smile. “Wouldn’t you rather see for yourself?”

I turn back to Vaan, raising an eyebrow; he laughs, running past me and hurrying into the spacious entrance to the massive ship. I could probably fit three  _Castean'_ s in here if I deconstructed half of one and crammed it in the wings. Balthier paces inside, trusting me enough to shut the door before joining everyone in the cockpit. Balthier and Fran take the front, of course, the  _Strahl_ whining as her engines and stones and mechanics start up at full force.

“How flies Bhujerba?” Basch asks, ducking underneath the door frame to enter the cabin.

“Oh, she’s free as can be, for now,” Balthier replies, flicking a few switches I take a moment to piece together, correlating the color, type, and position to what it controls. Vaan stands beside me in the place where I hover over the two, though he’s quite a bit closer than I dared to be. I know how much concentration on-the-fly directives can be, even if you’ve done it a thousand and one times. “The Empire took notice when they announced the Princess’s unfortunate suicide and your untimely execution.”

“If it becomes known that I am alive, the Marquis will lose their favor,” Basch says sternly.

“I try to steer clear of such things,” Balthier replies, though it’s more under his breath than out loud. He flicks two more switches and the power light fully blinks on. Evidently less elaborate than the  _Castean’s_ board, but I like them difficult. I suppose my life’s a good situation for me, then. “Right. It’s time to fly.” I fall into the seat behind Fran and next to Vaan, Basch sitting behind me. “And no wagging tongues or you’re like to bite them off.”

We rise up out of the hangar slowly, light flooding in as the ceiling opens up to let us through. Carefully, the  _Strahl_ is righted and Balthier signals for Fran to turn up the speed. Seconds later, the force of the ship’s momentum throws us all into our seats, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. I’m used to it faster than Basch and most certainly faster than Vaan, who still looks like he’s been plastered to his chair. Biting my lip, I lean over and rest my chin on the edge of Fran’s seat, staring over the assortment controls that just beg to be used. Too bad I won’t be around to try.  _Next stop, Bhujerba._


	9. The Lhusu Mines

The aerodrome is busy as always, filled with people of strange accents and dress. A foreign city hidden high up in the clouds, lost from the mainland and hung by the Empire’s invisible puppet-strings. As if on cue, a group of Imperial soldiers rushes into the port, looking around wildly. Balthier leans over to mutter something to Basch and the captain nods.

“No good, he’s not here,” one of the soldiers huffs, turning to face the other two.

“Keep searching!” another commands. “This way!”

“You’re a dead man,” Balthier says, leading the way out of the aerodrome. “Don’t forget it.” He looks over his shoulder pointedly. “And no names.”

“Of course,” Basch replies lowly.

The city is built from faded stone, monochrome as ever. In the distance, swoops of bright blue crystal rise from the ground and give off a gentle, pulsing glow. The wind is gentle, chilling my skin as the dense gray clouds hide the sun. Beautiful.  _Will night ever fall if we keep chasing the sun?_

“The Lhusu Mines are just up ahead,” Balthier says, leading us past conversing friends and couples alike. “Though, I do hear there’s not much left there these days.”

“The Empire likely sucked it dry of its magicite,” I shrug, earning a curious look from Vaan. Before he can speak, another terribly familiar voice stings my ears. It seems my past wants to yap at my heels these days.

“You’re on your way to the mines?” We turn to see a small boy holding himself up on the edge of the bridge’s walls, peering down at the clouds below us. A head of sleek black hair turns to reveal pale blue eyes and an assertive expression. “Then please, allow me to accompany you.”  _Gods, of all the things he could’ve done…_ “I’ve an errand to attend to there.” The glint of his ruby earrings catches my eye and I nearly groan.  _Way to blend in, Mr. Upper Class._

“What manner of errand?” Basch asks, looking down at the boy hesitantly.

“What errand? I might ask the same of you.” He looks up at the captain, a dark eyebrow raised. Balthier, obviously annoyed with his narrowed eyes and tight jaw, shoots a glance to Basch. I sigh; the boy’s “way with words” never subsided.

“Right, come on then.”

“Excellent,” the boy replies, dusting off his bunched silk pants.

“Do me a favor and stay where I can keep my eye on you,” Balthier adds, hands resting on his hips and head lifted high. “Should be less trouble that way.”

“For us both,” the child nods.

“So what’s your name?” Vaan asks, crossing his tanned arms.

“Oh, I…” The boy turns to face him and I chew on the inside of my cheek when his eyes flicker over to mine in quick question. After the slightest bit of stuttering, he answers with flushed cheeks. “I’m Lamont.” He tears his eyes away from mine to look at Vaan. As thick-headed as he is, I have to admire Vaan for his genuine concern.

“Don’t worry,” he replies, misreading “Lamont’s” hesitancy. “I don’t know what’s in that mine, Lamont, but you’re in good hands.” He grins, turning to face the captain. “Right, Basch?”

If the boy and his little act made me want to smack my head against the ground repeatedly, Vaan’s slip-up has me ready to launch myself over the edge of this bridge and fall into the concrete sea miles below. Balthier’s jaw drops as he exchanges a bewildered look between Basch and the thief and Fran sighs, disappointed. Unfazed, Vaan rests a hand on Lamont’s shoulder, smiling at the captain. And then he realizes, his face falling. Balthier shrugs, rolling his eyes and performing the same odd half-wink I’ve seen so often. Basch sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s get a move on, then.” I break the silence, shoving Basch’s armored shoulder and nodding toward our guest. “This  _boy_ looks in a hurry.”

“It’s Lamont,” the boy repeats, an earnest look overtaking his face that only I can read. I give him the slightest nod, a seal on a silent agreement.  _You go with my façade and I’ll go with yours._

“It seems you know the city well,” Balthier replies a bit tensely.

“You gave us the direction to the mines,” I counter. I don’t refuse his wayward “take the lead if you know so much” offer, walking in front of the others with a bit more of a taunting sway to each step. “Although, if the leading man is already so tired to have given the control to  _me,_  I’ll happily oblige.”

“Control,” he mutters. Fran glances at him, amused. Lamont quickly finds his way to my side, but he never seems to pry Vaan off of him. A pity.

“Do you live here, Lamont?” Vaan asks, nudging our newest addition. The boy looks remarkably uncomfortable, offering me that “help” glance now and then.

“I find it unwise that I should tell a stranger where I reside,” he replies simply.

“Hey, I’m from Rabanastre,” Vaan shrugs. “See? Wasn’t  _that_ hard.”

“Lay off him, Vaan,” I huff, giving him a stern look. “No need for an interrogation.”

“It’s quite alright,” Lamont starts, shutting his mouth when my scowl turns in his direction.

We head south through the sky-strewn city. Shops line the streets and people wander from place to place, speaking of the Empire, the Marquis, and where they might find the newest madhu brewery. Not a terrible place to lay low, if the Fates smile on me. I’ll help them rescue the girl and then I’ll bolt. A simple, and hopefully accomplishable, plan. The further we go from the main city, the more the gentle chill of Nhujerba brushes my skin, raising sharp goosebumps. Before long, the mouth to the Lhusu Mines is wide open and dead ahead, enraptured in darkness as the sun begins to fall below the crystal mountains of the floating island.

“Here we are!” I announce, crossing my arms. “The Bhujerban Lhusu Mines, once chock full of magicite, now under Imperial—”

“What are you, a  _parijanah?”_ Balthier scoffs, interrupting my monotone speech. I only grin, letting him take the lead once again. We head down the stairs, stopping before the entrance. “This mine is one of the richest veins in Ivalice.”

“Under Imperial guard, no doubt,” Basch adds.

“Actually, no,” Lamont speaks up, stepping forward. “With but few exceptions, the Imperial army is not permitted in Bhujerba.” He motions toward the open mouth of the mines. “Well, shall we proceed?” We follow him inside the dim, stone-carved cave before Basch and Balthier take the lead, apparently inseparable friends. I can’t help but give our guest a hard time.

“I suppose the children up here are always well-informed,” I observe innocently. Lamont looks up at me, dark eyebrow arched.

“Yes, and I suppose all adults from below are incredibly nosey.” Vaan laughs, shoving the younger boy gently.

“He got you there, Shae!”

“I’m not nosey,” I reply with a shrug. “Quite the opposite actually.”

“You prefer to keep everyone’s business to themselves,” Lamont points out, justifying his “sudden conclusion” quickly. “Is that correct?”

“Aren’t you a bright one,” I scoff, heading down the darkening stairs that lead further into the mine. Fran suddenly goes on high alert, motioning for us to follow her in the shadows. Hurried, we obey, not quite sure what’s set her off until a group of Imperials walks into the passageway. A Judge walks beside another man dressed in fine robes, breaking the silence first.

“You will forgive me for asking, but you are diverting the purest of the magicite—”

“I can assure you it reaches Lord Vayne most discretely,” the nobleman says abruptly, cutting the Judge off.

“Ha! You wear your saddle well.”

“Be that as it may, I have no intention of being bridled, Your Honor,” the white-haired man replies, adjusting his long, yellow coat.

“Then you prefer the whip?” The Judge turns back to face him, face disguised by a heavy horned helmet, golden just like the rest of his armor. “Stubbornness will see not only you broken, Excellency, but Bhujerba as well.”

Lamont jumps from the pillared ledge we hide on first, watching the backs of the nobleman, his attendants, and the Judge leave the mines. I drop down beside him, nodding toward the yellow-coated man’s back and keeping my voice low.

“Who’s he?”

“Halim Ondore IV, the Marquis of Bhujerba,” he answers, blue eyes narrowed as the Imperials disappear into the light of outside. “The Marquis served as mediator as the negotiations of Dalmasca’s surrender.” His voice takes on an edge. “It would appear that he is somewhat less neutral now.”

“They say he’s been helping the Resistance,” Balthier says, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his black leather pants.

“They say many things,” Lamont replies, raising an eyebrow. Balthier returns the expression and I feel my heart stutter as the boy gets defensive.

“You’re certainly well informed. Who did you say you were again?”

“What difference does it make?” Vaan cuts in, walking between the pirate and the child. “We have to find Penelo.”

“And Penelo is your…?” Lamont starts, his accented voice trailing off. I understand that Archadians, Bhujerbans, and Dalmascans mingle quite a bit these days, but the way he speaks alone should be a tell-tale clue to the others; it makes me want to cringe.

“She’s a friend. She was kidnapped and taken here,” Vaan explains, turning back to face us. With that, he runs toward the tunnel that leads deeper into the mines. Choosing the better of two choices, I follow, waving for the others to get moving.

The mines are relatively empty, save for a steeling or two that drops from the ceiling to dive toward us. No one speaks much, aside from the occasional joke from Vaan and an efforted grunt from Basch. The tunnels all look the same, doubled and following a set of nonoperational railroad tracks. The occasional empty crate lines the carved walls, Fran pulls her last arrow from the body of a steeling, testing the bend.

“I should have stopped by a shop,” she sighs, snapping the slender stick in two easily.

“How are you going to fight?” Vaan frowns. Before she can reply, I toss the viera my spear; she raises an eyebrow. I pull my mythril dagger from my boot.

“Don’t break that, too,” I warn, teasing.

Turning away to head to the upper path outside, I see Balthier staring long and hard at the weapon in his partner’s grasp, eyes narrowed the slightest amount. He catches me watching and quickly sets himself into motion, leading the way down the path. I pray to the Fates that Fran doesn’t hand the spear over to the curious pirate.

It’s not long before the path splits. Somehow, the way we choose to go isn’t a dead end. I don’t want to know what happens if you go the wrong way in a creepy place like this. Even the open-aired sections of the mines are dim, the sun long gone below the horizon. The next area is rocky and dark, carved out of the underground rather than built up with ornate pillars and walkways like the rest of the mines. The only source of light is the dull glow of blue crystals scattered about, undoubtedly nethicite of some sort. Lamont hurries forward and kneels, pulling a matching blue shard from a pocket inside his shirt.

“This is what I came here to see,” he mutters under his breath.

“What’s that?” Vaan asks, looming over the boy’s shoulder.

“It’s nethicite,” Lamont replies, lifting the stone higher. “Manufacted nethicite.”

“Nethicite?”

“Unlike regular magicite, nethicite absorbs magickal energy. This is the fruit of research into the manufacture of nethicite. All at the hands of the Draklor Laboratory.” An unreadable expression crosses Balthier’s face as his eyebrows raise briefly, his eyes flickering down to the knowledgeable boy. And then it’s gone and I save it for pondering later. Not that it will matter then when I’m free from this mess.

“So this is where they’re getting the magicite.” Lamont stands, staring up at a tall wall glowing with nethicite shards.

“Errand all attended to, then?” Balthier asks, walking toward him.

“Thank you,” Lamont replies, his eyes still locked on the wall. I watch uneasily as the sky pirate gets closer. “I’ll repay you shortly.”

“No, you’ll repay us now,” Balthier corrects sternly. “We have too much on our hands to go on holding yours.” Lamont turns his back to the wall, staring up at Balthier with a startled face. The pirate traps him, staring at him hard with his eyes narrowed. “So, where did you hear this fairy tale about ‘nethicite’?”  _Shit_ _._ I bite my cheek so hard blood floods over my tongue. “And where did you get that sample you carry?” Balthier pushes him farther back against the rock, looming over him with venom laced in his voice. “What do you know about the Draklor Laboratories?” He blocks off the boy’s escape by pressing his hands to the wall on either side of his head. “Tell me: who are you?” I can’t take it anymore; I can’t have Balthier messing up the sweet deal I’ve found with this  _boy_.

“Balthier, leave him be,” I snap, earning far more attention than I want. “He’s only a child who knows far too much for his own good. Probably snagged nethicite off an Imperial and got curious.” Balthier scowls at me, sensing there’s more to this than he originally thought. Quickly, I turn this against him. “Besides, why’s a sky pirate so worried about manufacted nethicite and laboratories, anyway?” Before he can give his biting reply, we’re stopped by a rough voice I never wanted to hear again.

“You kept us waiting, Balthier!” The sky pirate sighs, turning with the rest of us to see four bangaa head hunters wielding glinting weapons in the entrance of the room. “You slipped away in Nalbina. We missed you!” Ba’Gamnan slams a jagged metal hoop onto a staff and the circle spins to life, whining like a power tool. “First the Judge, and now this boy. The whole affair has the smell of money about it. I may have to wet my beak a little.” The crew is dangerously close before Balthier snaps his answer back sharply.

“Keep your snout in the trough where it belongs. This thinking ill befits you, Ba’Gamnan.”

“Balthier!” the bangaa snarls, laughing. “Too long have I gone unpaid! I’ll carve my bounty out of that boy!” Vaan steps up, aggravated.

“Where’s Penelo?” he demands. “We’re taking her back!”

“The girl?” the headhunter repeats with disgust. “Why keep the bait when you’ve landed the fish? We cut her loose on the way here and then off she ran, crying like a babe!”

Lamont, fed up, breaks past Balthier and hurls his nethicite into Ba’Gamnan’s face. Panicked, the boy runs and we follow. I make a point of shoving the disoriented bangaa to the ground as I sprint past.

“Hey! Wait up!” Vaan calls, trying to catch up to Lamont’s hurried speed. But the boy knows he’s been caught by both parties; he won’t be slowing anytime soon.

“We’ll not be able to take them all!” Balthier calls. “Fight who we must, leave the rest!”

I run beside Basch at the back, legs pumping hard to escape from the bloodthirsty headhunters. I could easily catch up to Lamont, but to do so would raise even more suspicion than I’ve already aroused. So instead I stay at the back, pretending to run out of breath now and then. The whine of Ba’Gamnan’s saw keeps me going strong, Basch breathing heavily to my right.  _Why did we have to go so far in?_

Lamont quickly disappears from sight for good, no sign of the curious boy left anywhere.  _Not surprising._ When he doesn’t want to be found, he makes it impossible to locate him. At least until he gets a head start. Finally, Basch and I break off, heading left where the others head right and jumping back into their path at the last second. Hiding behind a wall, we all stop to catch our breath.

“It would not seem they follow,” Fran comments, listening hard for the sound of footsteps. “We’ve lost them.” Balthier stretches his arms over his head and yawns as if this is part of his daily schedule.

“Much more running about with bangaa at my heels…” He drops his arms, shaking his head with a slight smile. “And I’m apt to give up sky pirating altogether.”

The walk back is silent, no animals of any sort deciding to pick a fight. I can feel the stares burning into my back as I walk, keeping my distance far ahead of the others to avoid questions. It’s none of their business; frankly, it’s better for everyone if I keep my secrets to myself. They’re secrets because common knowledge makes people angry and gets innocents killed.

On our way outside, I spot Lamont heading straight for the cluster of Imperials we saw earlier outside, head held high. The others rush toward thick pillars, hiding and spying. Basch loosely takes hold of my arm, pulling me back into the shadows. Thank the Fates no one saw me. I was too lost in my head to realize I should  _hide._

“I see you’ve been out walking without the company of your cortege, Lord Larsa” the Judge comments, facing the boy head on. I fight the urge to gauge everyone’s reaction and watch on. A pair of soldiers moves to the side to reveal the blonde girl who fought to see Vaan at his arrest.  _Penelo._  Vaan emerges from his hiding place, trying to run toward her, only to have Balthier pull him back with a scowl.

“We caught her wandering out of the mines,” a guard reports. “You must take care with such undesirables about.”

“I was kidnapped!” Penelo protests.

“Silence!” The Judge stares her down through his golden helmet, only for his gaze to be broken by Larsa’s words.

“If it is a crime to wander on one’s own, then I, too, am guilty.” He turns to face the Judge with no hesitation, raising an eyebrow. I wrestle with a smile, overjoyed to see one of House Solidor’s  _dogs_ put in his place. Larsa turns away. “Marquis. I trust our estate can accommodate another guest?”

“Why not?” the Marquis replies, offering a smile to Penelo.

“Judge Ghis, I shall heed your counsel. I will not travel unaccompanied any longer.”

With that, Larsa takes Penelo’s hand and hurries away. Vaan huffs as the Imperials leave, watching his friend go with the boy Balthier was so very  _interested_ in just thirty minutes ago.

“What’s Penelo doing?” he mutters as we regroup. “And what’s the deal with that Lamont?”

“That’s no ‘Lamont’,” Balthier cuts in, turning to watch the boy walk off into the night streets of Bhujerba. “Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. Fourth son to Emperor Gramis… and younger brother to Vayne.”

“What? That kid?!”

“Do not worry,” Fran assures him, a hand rested on her hip. “I believe he will treat her well.” Balthier smiles, shrugging dramatically.

“Nobody knows men like Fran does.”

“Our purposes lead the same way: to Ondore,” Basch says, immediately changing the subject. “We must find means to approach him.”

“The Marquis is channeling money to organizations opposing the Empire,” Balthier explains as we head back toward the town. “We’ll start there.” He looks up toward the starry night sky. “However, it would be wise to rest up before we do so. Penelo is in good hands for now.”

“I guess,” Vaan replies, defeated. He yawns, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “So… that Larsa. If he’s so important, why didn’t anyone recognize him?” I tear my eyes away to something oh-so-interesting in the distance, but I can feel Balthier staring at me pointedly.

“I wouldn’t say  _nobody._ ” We continue walking toward the inn, though the brief, tense break in conversation is enough to get my heart racing and my lungs begging for fresh air. “Care to explain, Shae?” I remain tight-lipped a moment longer, scanning over the citizens of the city and ignoring all the eyes locked on me. Then I sigh, having built the simplest of tales.

“A deal made about a year ago. Nothing special, just a trade-off, a clear bounty, and a promise to never acknowledge each other in the presence of company.” I shrug, dropping my knife down into my boot. “I previously had a partner who insisted on the whole thing, so I went along. Didn’t see it fit to drop it after he was gone.”

“Your partner, what happened to him?” Vaan asks.

I say no more, pushing the door to the inn open and dropping a bag of gil on the counter. Without a word, I pull my spear from Fran’s grasp, take my key, and lock myself in my room. I should wash up, but for now, I throw myself onto the rough bed and shut my eyes. I swore I would help them get Penelo back, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as I originally thought. I don’t know why I think anything’s simple anymore. Nothing ever is. 


	10. Halim Ondore IV

_~1 year before~_

_I stare out the broad window of the ** **Castean**** , breath fogging up the crystal clear glass. The night is clear with only the glitter of the stars to illuminate the way. Most nights we fly far away from civilization to avoid unwelcome contact. Neither of us wants to deal with society. No, society marred us with too many scars. A burned child never reaches for the stove a third time, at least not once the blisters have bubbled up and burst. All we need is air and sky and each other. Tonight, I refuse to land. I refuse to fear the dark while I lie in bed. No, tonight we fly and I refuse to shut my eyes._

_The plains beneath us are smooth, green, alive. Giant serpents settle for the night and birds shimmy into place inside their nests. The gentle hum of the ship’s engine lulls me into comfort, even as I rub over a stinging cut with steel-armored fingertips. The wounds we received from a pack of wolves this afternoon need much more time to recover. Our curatives are gone and both Dern and I can’t seem to grasp healing magick. No matter. Stowing the ** **Castean**** away for a few days won’t be difficult. I’ll explore the safer areas around us while Dern toys with upgrade ideas I’ve drawn in my sketchbook. It always goes that way on these recovery trips. Perhaps I’ll soak in some of the summer sun._

_“You’re taking on the whole night?” I jump, my heart leaping into my throat when I feel a hand gently resting on my back. “You’re hardly in the proper shape for such a task.”_

_“Says Dern the Drowsy,” I taunt gently, turning around to face him and crossing my arms. He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be alright.”_

_“Will you now?” He raises one dark eyebrow, motioning to the sore wounds littering my skin. Crimson is smudged across my white shirt and bruises and cuts create a sickening pattern across my shoulders, arms, neck. “Don’t fight me tonight, Shae. Go get some rest. It’s well deserved.”_

_“I’m not tired,” I reply simply, turning my gaze out to the world below us. He sighs, gently forcing me to face him by grasping my shoulders and turning. I shudder at the feeling of his warm hands on my cool skin. The contrast is so sharp it burns._

_“It is not a matter of energy, merely one of healing. Please, Shae.” He nods toward the window. “This is all ** **ours****. You have the rest of your life to gawk at the beauty of creation. Refrain from making yourself sick of it while you’re young.”_

_“You’re hardly much older than me,” I retort, though I have to fight a yawn in the process. Dern’s right; I should rest. But… To leave him out here, alone, all night… Dern has already sacrificed far too much. “Maybe we should stop here for tonight.”_

_“No need. We have places to be by morning and I rested plenty after our return.” He raises an eyebrow, feigning a stern expression. “Off to bed, ** **Shera.**** ”_

_“Alright, ** **Adamar****. I’ll go to bed now and skin you alive later.”_

_“I suppose that’s a deal,” he smiles, shutting those bloodshot green eyes and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead that makes me shudder from the difference in temperature. Sighing, I pull him into a careful hug, arms hooked under his and wrapped around the tight surface of his back. His sharp chin rests on top of my head; I shut my eyes. Beneath my fingertips, I feel the smooth, worn shaft of his javelin. “I suppose I say it too often… But only the gods know how grateful I am to have you here with me.” He laughs to himself quietly, giving me one last squeeze. “Goodnight, Shae.”_

_I pull away from his grasp and force a smile on my face, nodding and brushing past him to head for my quarters alone. “_ _Goodnight, Dern.”_

“Marquis Ondore announced my execution two years ago,” Basch muses. “If news of my survival were to spread, the Marquis may find his position compromised.”

“The men he’s been funding bear little love for the Empire,” Balthier adds, leaning forward with his elbows rested on the smooth wooden table. “They won’t be thrilled to discover that rumors of your death were, in fact, greatly exaggerated.”

“So we find a way to raise the alarm to that effect,” I propose, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms. “That’ll get their attention if any of them still possess a care in the world.”

We’re seated in the back corner of the inn’s tavern, circled around a table and deciding how to get the attention of the Marquis. Of course, we can’t just march up the place and promise our Basch is the right Basch. Nothing is ever quite that easy. Vaan sits backward in his seat, cheek rested along the sharp edge of its back as he watches on, wanting nothing more than to save Penelo. Suddenly, his eyes go bright and he smiles.

“Hey, nothin’ to it! I’ll just go around town spreading the word. How ‘bout this?” He stands, pulling himself on top of his chair. “I’m Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca!” The entire tavern turns to stare at us, frowning, confused, and mildly disturbed. The boy hops down, grinning with his hands on his hips. “Well? Whaddaya think?”

“That certainly qualifies as a clamor,” Balthier replies. Sighing, he shakes his head. “Alright, Vaan, get to it. For the girl’s sake, eh?”

“The more people who witness your little performance the better,” I assure him. “If we’re really going to reach the Marquis, it’s all up to you.”

“We’ll be waiting here if you need us,” Balthier adds, shooting me a sidelong glance.

Without needing any more encouragement, the thief hurries out the door. I can hear him shouting before the doors even close. Groaning, I give a light laugh and fold my arms on the table, laying my head down. Balthier hums, swishing the water in his glass in a few circles. I watch the whirlpool swirl under the surface before it fades away just like  so many things I’ve ever known.

“You’re as pensive as ever,” Balthier comments, cocking his head to the side. “Ready to talk today?”

“Why should I?” I raise an eyebrow. “It’s as Larsa said: I prefer to keep everyone’s business to themselves.”

“Then might I ask why you’re still here?” Basch inquires.

I shrug, keeping myself slouched over, ready to fall asleep. I didn’t sleep well, jumping at every shadow and mulling over the faces of the dead in the back of my mind. Haunted by the past, I paced the floor for hours, hands wringing, head racing, heart pounding. Vaan’s questioning what happened to my partner left me replaying the events over and over in my head, events I tried to bury far behind me not all that long ago.

“I thought I’d help get the girl in hopes that she’d keep Vaan out of getting in too much trouble,” I mutter, turning my eyes away from them and into the busy tavern. “It’s turned out to be a far bigger ordeal than I thought.”

“Ah, so you do care a bit for our little thief,” Balthier points out, eyebrow raised and lips quirked into a smile. He holds out his hand and Fran sighs, her scarlet eyes full of irritation as she hands him a small bag of gil. Basch frowns, looking between the two before shaking his head.

“It does seem out of character for a sky pirate to be interested in the good of others.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m just special,” I mumble, shutting my eyes and locking the door on that conversation. Unfortunately, Balthier brought a lockpick along.

“I’ll say. A sky pirate without a ship and a tendency to look out for others, though she’s lost her partner somehow.” I open my eyes to scowl at him, a silent warning to shut him up. He merely raises an eyebrow smugly. “Your reactions have me wondering if your  _partnership_ was something more as well.”

“What do you know?!” I snap, standing so suddenly my chair hits the floor with a resonating thud. “What do want from me?!”

“I must admit, Fran,” Balthier murmurs, leaning over to his viera partner. “Getting a rise out of her is quite amusing.”

“Find a new source of entertainment,” I huff, setting my chair back up and ignoring the stares I’m receiving with flushed cheeks.

“Off to find Vaan so soon?”

I bite my healing cheek so hard blood rushes into my mouth, wanting so badly to punch that smug smirk off his face. Basch attempts to  _stare_  me out of my bitter hatred, Fran watching cautiously to see what I’m about to try. Taking a deep breath, I spit the blood flooding my mouth to the floor and turn on my heels just enough that they can hear me loud and clear as I walk away.

“Do me a favor and keep it down next time you bed your pet rabbit.”

Don’t get me wrong; no such event (that I’m aware of) occurred last night. But it most certainly gets a reaction from the crowd, some stunned, most laughing. Balthier speaks again, low, but I hear it even from the door.

“I apologize, my dear, but not everyone’s partnership unfolds as yours did.”

I can’t control myself any longer; I’m quite literally at his throat in a matter of seconds. His chair slams to the floor and he’s hardly dazed for half a second as my fingers clutch his shoulders, begging to strangle him. Begging to let them rip his throat out so he can’t mock me anymore. So he can’t mock  _Dern_  anymore. Before I can fulfill those wishes, I’m jerked to my feet by Basch, met by the cool, contained irritation of deep blue eyes.

“Why don’t you get some air?” he suggests, blocking my view of the sky pirate. “Calm down, see the city before we visit the Marquis.” I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head. “You’re attracting the wrong sort of attention. I’ll take care of Balthier.”

“Good luck,” I huff, breaking free from his grasp and storming out of the tavern. The setting outside is far different. People whisper and share confused expressions. Occasionally I hear a mutter of Basch’s name and I can’t help but smile. Vaan’s doing a fantastic job of spreading the word. I couldn’t be prouder of the little rat.

Keeping my pace quick, I head down the rough streets, avoiding the eyes of guides and citizens as I walk. Children watch me walk past with curious eyes, most staring at the glinting armlet on my left wrist, the gold and steel glistening in the daylight. Moving from view to view, shop to shop, I kill the time until I see the tension on the streets seriously building up. I can’t help but smile when I hear Basch’s voice coming up from behind me, happy to know something went right for a change.

“All attention is on Vaan; now is the time to slip in,” he announces. I lean against the smooth stone of the city’s marketplace railing, staring out at the golden, puffy clouds floating past. Taking a deep breath, I nod and straighten. “Balthier and Fran located the Marquis’s men.”

“And we’re meeting up with them?” I ask, walking along beside the captain.

“Of course. Once we enter, we’ll have them trapped. They reside in the back of the Cloudeborne, a tavern in the north end of the city.” Basch glances toward me, towering over my height easily but not the least bit intimidating with his gentle eyes. “I apologize, but it seems those pirates found quite a bit of amusement in your previous... Involvements.”

“I don’t blame them, I suppose,” I shrug, offering a smile. Then I drop it immediately, tearing my eyes away from his and staring at the road. This happiness at seeing someone, this companionship I feel forming rapidly, I have to stop it before it leads to each one’s demise. After we save the girl, I run just as I always do. “I overreacted,” I add.

“Is everything alright?” he asks. “If there is a problem we must face I beg of you to speak up now.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

We slip into the tavern and I’m met with the sight of Balthier and Fran waiting cautiously in the back of the room. Anger easily stirs up in my chest but I ignore it, nodding toward the door. Balthier glances at Basch before taking the lead, waltzing right into the storage room. The walls are the same as the bar’s, though now there are crates stacked about left and right alongside the jars and urns haphazardly lined up against the wall. I close the door behind me, catching the slightest bit of conversation from the room within.

“If at trickery it ended, it would end well enough. But why this boy, and why Captain Ronsenburg?” A thick Bhujerban accent greets my ears, staccato and distinguished. “An explanation is due, and I will hear it. The Empire’s hounds grow passing bold indeed.”

“A shame if they learnt the Marquis trafficked with the likes of you,” Balthier replies, stepping into the open. The rest of us file into the dim, musty room, surrounded by men and women dressed as common people of the sleazy sort. A gray-skinned bangaa turns, towering over the bold sky pirate. “Agents masquerading as guides. A hideout in the back of a tavern…” He glances toward a man seated at a square table across from us, a woman resting her arms on his shoulder. “Not exactly earning high marks for originality.”

Vaan stands across from the table, a man on either side of him. In the back of the room, more people cluster, watching with narrowed eyes and suspicious irritation. The bangaa before Balthier steps closer, snarling.

“Now you’ve done it!”

“Wait!” the man at the table calls, staring straight at Basch as he steps forward, walking toward Vaan’s captors. “So Basch fon Ronsenburg does yet live.”

Balthier crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at Fran. The viera makes no move to respond, watching on as Basch recounts the tale of his downfall. I lean against a stack of crates, looking about the room. The citizens absorb the story with wide eyes and cynical scowls alike. Vaan’s eyes meet mine and he smiles; I look away as if I never saw that boyish excitement glittering in his gray eyes. Basch finishes speaking, exerting confidence in every word until the very end. The man at the table gives relieved laugh.

“I knew there must be more to it, but to find you at the end of this tale… Ah, to see the Marquis’s face when he learns of it.

“I should like nothing more,” Basch replies, his voice stern and assertive. “I would meet him, and see for myself.” A figure I hadn’t noticed before, a tall orange-furred rev that walked with Ondore in the Lhusu Mines, steps from the shadows. The seated man turns to him, eyebrow raised.

“How say you, my lord?”

“There is little to be said,” the rev replies, voice deep and accent even thicker than those of the Bhujerbans in the room. “I shall arrange a meeting with the Marquis. We shall expect you at the estate.”

“I suppose we should get moving then,” Balthier says, scanning over our reassembled group with his arms crossed.

We pile outside the tavern, regrouping outside the doors. It’s nearly noon judging by the height of the sun.

“Are we to head straight for the Marquis, then?” I ask, though I’m facing away from the group.

“That’s the plan,” Balthier replies, thumbs hooked into his pockets. “Unless there’s something we should be wary off?”

“Just because I know Larsa doesn’t mean I know everything about Bhujerba,” I mutter, taking off down the road at a quick pace. Vaan hurries to catch up, waving a hand in my face.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I ignore him, turning the corner and stopping under the sharp gaze of a  _parijanah._ The man looks over all of us as our entire party gathers, waiting impatiently. As he steps aside and we head up the path, I can’t help but feel that miserable, cold stone of dread sinking my stomach to my toes. Enemy territory is no stranger of mine, but this is an entirely new and dangerous concept. We plan to march right into his own home and  _hope_ that he listens to what Basch has to say, along with freeing Penelo. Fates above, I better be allowed to run for a  _long_ time after all this.    


	11. Beheld Betrayal

            It's hours later that the Marquis accepts us. His waiting room is comfortable, to be sure. Simply decorated and large, it is far from the worst place I've had to wait. However, nine hours of pacing and napping and scowling do a number on one's patience, and we're all at our wits' end when a soldier finally appears in the doorway and tells us the Marquis is finally free. Passing a window, I see that it's dark and shadowy outside, the perfect place for disappearing into thin air. Every wall has some sort of portrait, carving, or ornament.

The soldiers push open two large decorative doors that lead into a narrow office. At it's very front sits the Marquis in what might be considered one step from a throne. Before him extends a large wooden table and behind him is a curved semicircle of towering windows bathed in the glow of blue crystal. At his side stands a blue-gray rev in tan robes, clawed hands clasped together as his dark eyes scan over us. The Marquis straightens, hands clutching the ends of his seat.

"Sir Basch fon Ronsenburg," he acknowledges, his accent as thick as ever. "It was not so very long ago that I announced you had been executed."

"And that is the only reason I draw breath," Basch replies, standing tall at the other end of the triangular table. The Marquis keeps his face stern, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and lace his fingers together.

"So you are the sword he's strung above my head." He sighs. "Vayne has left not a thing to chance. And?"

"A leader of the Resistance has fallen into Imperial hands," Basch explains. My fingers pick at my shirt even when my arms are crossed, my stance swaying just a bit both nervously and impatiently. "A woman by the name of Amalia." Balthier rests his hands on his hips and Fran's nose quivers the slightest bit. "I would rescue her, but I need your help."

"This resistance leader—this Amalia," the Marquis starts, straightening. "She must be very important." At the conversation's pause, Basch places an armored hand over his heart and bows his head.

"You understand I've my position to consider." The Marquis stands, pacing to the left. Vaan springs into action, stepping forward.

"Would you let us see Larsa? He's got my friend with him." The Marquis pauses, raising an eyebrow. Turning to face the boy, he rests his hands a top an ornate cane.

"I'm afraid you're too late."  _No... No way in Ivalice are we too late._ "Lord Larsa's cortege has already rejoined the Imperial detachment. I am told they will depart for Rabanastre upon the arrival of the fleet this eventide."

Vaan's eyes fall to the floor as he sighs, dejected. We're on a wild chocobo chase after his friend and the Resistance at the same time. At this rate, I may as well give up following this group and find somewhere else I'll truly fit. However, there is a detestable whisper in the back of my mind telling me how it would be my fault if Penelo were to be forever lost, all because I gave up far too soon. I take a deep breath, shaking my thoughts away as Vaan lunges toward the Marquis.

"You didn't stop them from...?!"

Balthier rushes forward, grabbing the boy and restraining him. Fran's ear twitches as the sounds of the Imperial fleet flood the early morning air outside. I grit my teeth, watching Vaan struggle against the sky pirate's grip.

"What are we waiting for?!" he demands, stomping on Balthier's foot.

"For you to calm down," the pirate retorts.

"I'm calm," Vaan hisses, jerking free and scowling at our "leading man."

"Captain Ronsenburg," the Marquis says sternly, turning to face Basch with a dark look in his eyes. "Surely the exigencies of position are not lost on you. Why indeed, you should find the enemy's chains... an easy burden to bear."

"You goddamn sleazy little..." I growl, stepping toward the Marquis. Balthier latches a hand onto my elbow, stopping me as he turns to face Basch.

"Wait!" he calls. The knight doesn't look back, drawing his sword.

"Sorry. Can't be helped."

"Summon the guard!" Ondore shouts, hitting the end of his cane to the floor with a dull thud. The doors at the back of the room open and a flood of soldiers bursts forth. We turn to see the armored men rushing toward us dutifully, ready to hold us under Imperial arrest. "They're to be taken to Judge Ghis," the Marquis commands over the chaos.

"What are you doing?" Vaan demands as a guard reaches toward him and takes hold of his arms. "Let go!"

"Gentle," I snap lowly as one of the men grips my wrist a bit too tightly. "Unless you'd like to explain to Vayne why you've been damaging his prisoner."

"Are you friends with him as well?" Balthier asks half sarcastically, hands snapped into cuffs before him. I laugh with my head thrown back, loud and bitter. It's enough to both answer his question and scare the guard standing behind me.

They march us out of the room in a line, cuffed and each with a guard loosely gripping their arm. A look briefly crosses over Fran's face, as if she's considering striking the man to her left down and beating him to a pulp. As I said, it crossed briefly. Unfortunately. We're led down endless dimly light hallways and into the depths of the manor. The guards watching over us are omnipresent, eyes everywhere at all times. Properly trained dogs earning their respective treats.

The early morning sun peers over the horizon as we're led onto a carrier airship. I find myself wedged between Vaan and Balthier, conflicted amongst the scents of fresh air, dry desert winds, and something so vaguely familiar it drives me near insanity simply because I can't place it. Huffing, I feel the ship take off smoothly, heading toward the looming shadow of a warship in the distance.

"The Dreadnought Leviathan," Balthier mutters, watching the massive airship draw closer. I yawn, earning an annoyed look from my guard. Leaning forward, I stare at the approaching monster of a machine and give a low whistle.

"Now  _there's_ a work of art I wouldn't mind dissecting for weeks on end."

"Now, now. Keep your pants on," he admonishes, shooting me a sly glance. I laugh, cut off only by a sharp kick to my knee.

"Silence!"

"Silence indeed," Balthier mutters, turning back to the ship.  _Here we go again._

~|~|~|~|~

"The prisoners, my lord!"

The heavy glass door before me slides open and we're guided inside by our individual guards. Ahead, three Imperial soldiers stand around Amalia, the woman we met in the sewers, and a Judge. Amalia turns, gasping upon seeing Basch. Her eyes are clearly full of shock as she looks over who else was dragged into this situation. Suddenly, rage flashes over her face and she charges forward, striking her hand firmly across Basch's face. I cringe upon hearing the impact.

"After what you've done!" she cries. "How dare you!" Her eyes narrow. "You're supposed to be dead." Basch stares back at her silently, making no effort to reply.

"Come now, come now," the Judge interjects. "Have you forgotten your manners?" He steps forward, turning toward the young woman before us. "This is hardly the courtesy due... to the late Princess Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca."

"Princess?" Vaan demands, shocked as he steps forward. I feel the same stunning wave wash over me.  _These days it seems all the dead are rising. Mustn't become hopeful._

"To be sure, she bears no proof of her former station. No different than any mean member of the insurgence."

"The Resistance," the supposed princess corrects sharply.

"His Excellency the Consul asks the ministry of the disthroned royal family in restoring peace to Dalmasca."  _Somehow, I doubt his intentions are as pure as they seem. Vayne's never been one to respect the power of others._ "Those who foster instability and unrest, who claim royal blood without proof, they shall meet their fate at the gallows. There are no exceptions."

"I will not play puppet to Vayne!" the woman replies indignantly, glowering at the Judge. There's a long moment of tension as she and Judge stare at each other stubbornly. It's broken only by Basch.

"King Raminas entrusted me with a task. Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: the Dusk Shard." He turns to the Judge. Balthier and Fran exchange an unreadable expression. I drag my eyes away and keep them firmly fixed on the scene playing out before me. "It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it."  _Proof of the quality of her blood._

"Wait!" the woman cries, cutting him off. "You took my father's life! Why spare mine now? You would have me live in shame!"

"If that is your duty: yes," Basch replies dryly. Ashelia scowls, looking the fallen knight before her up and down bitterly.

"Stop being so stubborn!" Vaan interjects, stepping forward. I roll my eyes, watching the boy as he tries to end the conflict. "Keep on like this and you're gonna get us all killed."

"Don't interrupt," she snaps, glaring at him. There's a soft ringing in the air and Vaan gasps, pulling the magicite from his vest. I come closer, watching the curious orange stone flash brightly.

"Vaan, that stone," Basch says, frowning at its glittering surface. "Where did you get it?"

"It was in the palace treasure," he stutters. Balthier stares at it with increasing interest.

"Well, well."

"Splendid!" the Judge laughs. "You've brought the Stone with you! This spares us a great deal of trouble. A guard and the Judge reach for it at the same time. The woman steps forward, blocking their greedy hands.

"Don't give it to him!" she demands. Vaan looks back at us, looking for an answer from me or Balthier. I shrug and Balthier grunts, nodding toward the Judge indifferently, most likely in hopes our lives will be made easier. Behind me, Fran nods, affirming our collective choice. Vaan turns back to the Judge, naïve as ever.

"You have to promise: no executions." I can't stop myself from scoffing at his words, even as the Judge takes the stone from the boy's hands.

"A Judge's duty is to the Law," he replies firmly, looking over the gleaming stone. Ashelia struggles against the grip of a soldier as the Judge turns and walks toward the front of the room. "Take them away. Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately."

As we turn to go, Vaan watches the Judge with clear innocent aggravation in his eyes. The guard holding him grips a handful of his blonde hair, jerking his head around and shoving him after us. I scowl at the guard, leaning down to mutter in the boy's ear.

"Don't take it too personally; these dogs haven't been pet nearly enough as of late."

"Move!" my guard snaps, gripping the back of my neck and pushing me forward roughly.

"Oh, so  _now_ you're in a rush," I counter, ignoring Basch's irritated glance and purposefully moving in slow motion. "You know, I do believe I've pulled a muscle in my—" The guard shoves again, harder this time. Without my hands, I soon find myself stumbling to the ground, hitting the floor with my shoulder first. The guard leans down to growl in my ear.

"Don't think the Consul won't be happy to see a bruise or two on that pretty skin of yours once you arrive."

Gritting my teeth, I shrug him off once he's dragged to my feet. All rebelled-out, I follow along with the group like a good girl. We're left with four guards at the rear as the rest head to their new posts. The next set of doors opens and, finally, Basch speaks up as we enter a broader room.

"So you were carrying it all along," he mutters to Vaan, keeping his eyes dead ahead. "The Fates jest." Balthier's face darkens with the first show of anger I've seen as of yet. Something about this Imperial ship has him just a second off beat.

"Tell these Fates of yours to leave me out," he replies sharply.

"Keep quiet!" the guards behind us shout.

"I'd also prefer that you keep your Fates to yourself," I tease, though I can't help the edge in my voice. What was meant to be a simple "save the girl" mission has turned into a messy reunion with the Empire that I most certainly  _do not_ appreciate.

"There was nothing else that I could do. You know that," the knight replies. Balthier clearly isn't buying it, eyebrows pinched together and eyes shooting irritated glowers at man.

"Oh , I understand," he murmurs sarcastically. "Honor, duty, and all that." We come to a stop. "I still can't believe that was the Princess."

"She's got quite an interesting set of manners," I scoff, eyeing the bright red mark across Basch's cheek.

"I said keep quite!" the guard shouts, moving to jab Balthier with his spear.

The sky pirate steps to the side, grabbing the guard's armor and jerking him forward onto the floor. I'm quick to rush forward and bash his head twice with the bottom of my boot. The other guard is felled abruptly by Fran's sharp heel. Balthier takes the first guard's spear into his cuffed hands, swiveling around to deal with the last soldier. Much to our surprise, he falls to floor limply, a guard in black armor standing behind him with his hand still in place from when it delivered its blow. Slowly, the man pulls off his helmet. Balthier steps forward defensively only to be stopped by Basch.

"The Marquis has been busy," the knight says, stepping toward the man boldly.

"Not lightly did I beg his aid," the man replies, smiling at Basch.  _Old friends, then. I suppose any friend of Basch is a... an ally of mine._ "Listen, it has been a full two years. I alone have kept Her Majesty safely hidden." He steps forward, unlocking Basch's bindings as he speaks. "I doubted friend and foe alike. I could trust nobody."

"You did your duty," Basch replies. "And mine for me."

"I'm getting her out. I need your help."

"Of course."

"We'd be happy to help," I offer, stepping forward with a wry smile and raising my bound wrists. "But I doubt I can do much as I am."

"You took out that man just fine," the man chuckles, walking forward to unlock my handcuffs. "I am Vossler."

"Shae," I reply, freeing my hands and feeling my aching wrists with a grateful smile. I nod toward the others. "Vaan, Balthier, and Fran."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replies, scratching at the dark patch of hair on his chin as he looks over the crowd before turning back to me. "Shall we get a move on, then?"


	12. The Dreadnought Leviathan

“Your weapons should be stored just over here,” Vossler says, leading the way toward a steel door. The panels instantly slide open to make way for the soldier, revealing a dim room stacked high with open crates.

Vaan surges forward, grabbing his dagger with a grin. He tosses my spear back to me. The numbskulls were too dumb to check my boot, so I’ve still got my knife. Balthier aims his gun at the wall, testing something I don’t understand. As Fran draws her bowstring experimentally, I watch Vossler from the corner of my eye. He mutters something to Basch, an unreadable glint gleaming in his eyes. The knight nods and they part. Frowning, I clutch my spear, grateful to hold it again.  _My only tie…_

“Shall we be off?” Balthier asks, turning to Vossler. The soldier nods, leading the way out the door. Suddenly, he comes to an abrupt stop, holding a hand out to halt us.

“Wait. Before we head out: see that red web of light spanning the passageway?” Ahead, innumerable lasers beams cross over the massive opening to the corridor. “It is a mechanism to detect intruders within the ship. Break one of those beams and an alarm will sound, summoning the guard.” He turns to Basch. “The alarm should cease after a time, but it’s better to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Come, Her Majesty awaits.”

“Got it,” I mutter. “Don’t touch the red lights.”

A bark echoes through the corridor to our left and soldiers and dogs are upon us before we can draw our weapons. They’re dispatched quickly enough and we’re well on our way to finding Princess Ashelia. This hunt for Penelo’s turned into a wild chocobo chase for royalty as well. It seems we’ll encounter Larsa again as well. Not that I mind. I’m quite fond of the boy, despite his trickery and his wit.

A soldier catches us every so often and we hurry through the white and blue corridors, quickly taken down by a blow from Vossler’s sword or a jab from my spear. Each set of hallways is divided by a dark, square room. Somehow, Vossler knows which path to take at every crossroads; I wonder how long he’s had his place here. Taking a deep breath, we slow down to a quick walk for the sake of Vaan’s breathless whining.

“How’re we holding up?” I ask, looking over at Basch. He nods.

“Fine. It seems I’ve recovered some energy at the prospect of defending Her Majesty.” I nod, playing with the vibrant sash at my side.

“Think we’ll see Larsa again?” Vaan asks, looking around warily.

“If he’s still with Penelo,” I nod. Balthier huffs, muttering something about weasels to Fran.

“Are you two friends or just partners?” the boy asks, grinning up at me.

“Neither,” I scoff, earning a suspicious glance from Vossler. “It’s… a complicated situation, to be sure. I’ll just say that at one point we collaborated to reach a common goal.”

“At one point? The boy’s hardly twelve,” Vossler cuts in, raising an eyebrow.

“Your point?” I fire back, annoyed at his prodding. He leaves it at that, though his walls are raised far over his head and he remains as defensive as ever. Rolling my eyes, I follow along with the group.  _Knights these days._

~|~|~|~|~

The final Judge falls, a mere trainee, an underling. Basch draws his sword from the man’s chest, frowning at the blood dripping from his blade. Six bodies litter the room: two Judges, two soldiers, two mages. An odd ambush for a group of runaways. They were easy enough, save for a few bumps and bruises on Vaan’s arms. I rub at a pulled muscle in my neck, wincing. The Fates are against me yet again. I put my spear away, watching the shadows of the broad room warily. Vossler stoops down beside a body, pulling out a silver keycard.

“Brig One,” he murmurs, eyeing the door across the room. “Looks like we’re in luck.”

He paces over to the door, armor clinking as he goes. Balthier spares me a glance from the corner of his eye, crossing his arms.

“Still leaving after we retrieve Vaan’s girl?”

“Count on it,” I mutter, resting my hands on my hips. “No more adventures for me until I get my ship fixed up.”

“Aren’t you dedicated.”

The door slides open and Vossler motions for us to follow him. Inside the brig resides four cells, each barred so tightly there are hardly gaps to see. Quickly, the knight rushes toward the farthest cell, key in hand. I’m shoved into the blindingly white cell by Vaan, piling in with everyone else.

“You are unharmed?” Vossler demands, pacing toward the young woman seated in the cell.

“Vossler!” the princess cries, standing abruptly. “I—” She falters in her steps, unsteady. Vossler catches her shoulders, holding her as she catches her balance. I roll my eyes at their theatrics, crossing my arms.

“Majesty!”

“It’s nothing,” she shakes her head, “I’ll be fine.” Basch steps forth, seemingly determined to take a beating. The princess narrows her eyes, rage flashing over her face. “You.”

“Come on, come on!” Vaan butts in. “Let’s go! What are you waiting for?” He nods toward the open door. “Penelo’s still out there!”

“We should hurry,” Balthier calls from the doorway, warning in his tone. “They won’t be long.”

“We will talk later,” Vossler nods, urging the princess out of the room. As we pass the cells, one catches my eye and I stumble forward, pulling Vossler to a halt. “What is it?”

“You just gonna let them sit here and rot?” I ask, nodding toward the caged moogles to our right. He raises an eyebrow.

“How do we know they can be trusted?”

“Oh, Fates above!” I hiss, exasperated. I mutter irritated curses under my breath as I pluck the keycard from his fingers and free the moogles. “Now go!”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t—” Ashelia starts.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give me reason to despise you of all people,” I snap, cutting her off. “I’ve had a rather awful few days, so if you don’t mind, let’s hurry up and get out of this hellhole.”

Stunned, she and Vossler watch as I pace past, leading the way into the next room. Just as we enter, an alarm begins to blare, dim red lights flashing through the ship. Basch steps forth.

“Majesty. We will cut you a path.”

“I will not place my trust in the sword of a traitor!” the princess protests, throwing her fists to her sides and stomping a booted foot on the ground. I raise an eyebrow.

“What a brat,” I mutter, shaking my head. Balthier spares me a slight smile, wiping it off his face before said brat can notice.

“Yet trust his sword we must, traitor or no,” Vossler insists. “I see no other way.” The princess sighs, stubbornly staring at the ground as her defender continues. “We track back, commandeer a ship, and make our escape.” He turns to me, motioning for me to move. “Run along.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I grin, grabbing Vaan’s wrist and running ahead. If they want to see me as a child then fine, I’ll play the child. I doubt I’m much older than Vaan; we could create chaos for those stuck-ups if we wanted. He laughs, keeping up easily.

“Time to save Penelo!” he cheers. I nod, pulling my spear free and driving it clear through the first enemy we come across. The Empire’s armor’s finicky as of late; far too many weak spots. I suppose Vayne hasn’t had much time to preview clothing with his new job overruling Rabanastre. Fortunate for us.

The way to the front of the  _Leviathan_ is chock full of Imperial hoplites, simple soldiers we take down easily. Alarms blare loud enough to deafen us, leaving my ears ringing and my head throbbing. It’s a continuous wailing whine that follows us down the same corridors we rushed before. Ashelia swings a massive sword about, blocking blows with her blue shield and counter-attacking.  _A warrior princess. Interesting._ I eye the bright pink…  _skirt_ she wears. It’s a wonder that that rather short bit of material even stays on. Shaking my head, I turn my eyes back toward our enemies.  _Focus, Shae._

We hurry into the next division block only to spot a pair of people rushing through the shadows. I ready my lance only to recognize Larsa and “Vaan’s girl,” Penelo. The girl skids to a stop upon seeing her friend, relief overcoming her features.

“Vaan!”

The two orphans rush together, embracing tightly. I sigh, resting my weight on one hip and crossing my arms.  _There’s ** **my****  duty done. _Still, even just seeing the two together reminds me far too much of Dern and me when we were young. My heart stings and I tear my eyes away.  _Bet they’re even around the same age as we were._

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” Vaan assures her, pulling her closer. Larsa spares me a glance before walking past them briskly.

“Ghis knows you’ve escaped. You must hurry,” the boy says, stepping up to Ashelia. Upon seeing her hesitation, he turns to face Vossler. “You are Captain Azelas. You will follow me. We must reach the airships before they do.”

“You would let us leave knowing who we are?” Vossler asks, frowning.

“Apologies,” I interrupt, “but Lord Larsa is not nearly as…  _stuckup_ as you may believe.” Larsa smiles, looking up at the princess.

“Lady Ashe, by all rights you ought not even to exist.” He motions to Basch, who stands tall behind her. “That you and Captain Ronsenburg were made to appear dead is like a hidden thread laid bare. Your actions hereafter will put at that thread and we will see what it unravels. This is our  _chance_.” He watches her earnestly, blue eyes shining brightly. “We must see this through, and get to the bottom of it. I believe ‘tis for the good of Dalmasca and the good of the Empire.”

“Very well, then,” Ashe replies gently after a moment’s pause.

“Thanks,  _Lamont,”_ Vaan says sharply, eyeing the boy. Larsa turns to face him and nods, swallowing hard.  _Nervous?_

“Er, I must apologize,” he starts, bowing his head. With that, he hurries toward Penelo, digging into his pocket. “Penelo, for you. May it bring you good fortune.” He hands over the glowing blue nethicite he held in the Lhusu Mines. She takes it with a smile, Vaan watching on with an adorable frown.

“Thanks,” the girl replies softly, tucking the stone away somewhere in her tight yellow bodysuit.

“Let us go,” Larsa says firmly, looking up at Vossler. He and Basch share a look before nodding. Vossler takes off with the youngest member of House Solidor and Penelo takes his place.

I turn and follow the group, watching Vaan and Penelo converse quickly and eagerly as we head for the glass door to the port launch of the ship. Fran towers over me to my left, sparing me a glance before looking over my head to study Balthier. They certainly possess an interesting dynamic. The door slides open and we rush to get to the spare ships on board the  _Leviathan._

“Such a great shame.” I look up sharply to see the Judge Ghis pacing the rafters over our heads. “I must confess: I thought you the one who would help us restore peace to Dalmasca. The clink of armor greets my ears and I turn to see Imperial soldiers blocking off our exit. “No matter. We hold proof of your royal lineage. A maid of passing resemblance will serve our purposes now.” He raises his hand, a burning red and blue ball of energy forming above his palm. “As for you, my dear…” The light floats up above our heads, swelling and swirling. “The Empire requires you no more!”

He throws one heavily armored hand forward, outstretched toward us. I wince, ducking my head as the light bursts. It rushes toward Ashe only to dissipate at the last second. Blue streaks flow through the air, flowing toward the blonde girl in front of me. I peer down over her shoulder, watching the nethicite in her hands glow brighter than it ever has before.

“What was that?” Penelo asks, breathless. Balthier looks up at me.

“The nethicite.” His green eyes linger on the stone, something well-guarded reflecting behind the scenes as a slight frown pulls at his lips. Ashe breaks past Basch’s grasp roughly, running forward and skidding to a stop before the Judge.

“Your Majesty does not disappoint!” the Judge shouts gleefully. “Ever quick to spurn an honorable surrender, as was your father.” Rage burns behind her blue-gray eyes.

“You know nothing of my father!” she shouts, throwing her fists down at her sides. With that, she pulls her broadsword free and Basch rushes to stand at her side, blade drawn.

The Judge chuckles, drawing both a sword and a bladed semicircle of some sort. I grip my spear with both hands, waiting for him to make a move. Quick to defend his friend, Vaan rushes toward the three soldiers behind us. Sighing, I turn on my heels and follow him. The first moves to bring his sword down over my head; I raise my spear to block the blow before shoving back and using my newfound momentum to turn sharply, holding the tip of my weapon to the joint in his armor, right at his throat, before driving it clean through. Choking, he falls to the ground, blood dripping thickly between the cracks in his armor.

Turning the next, I roll under an attack and parry the next, hurrying to jab at him. This soldier, however, refuses to go down as easy as his comrade. No matter. I jump back and out of his way as he swings again, trying to get behind him. No such luck.

Just as I rush to reconfigure my plan of attack, he leaps forward and brings his sword down over my head. I hardly have time to block the blow with the guard on my left wrist, and even then, I stumble back onto my rear, blood trickling down my fingertips from where the blade sliced clean through the light piece of armor. Vaan takes over just before I drag myself to my feet, surprising my attacker from behind and taking him out with one skillfully executed slice.

Nodding my thanks, I hurry to help the others fight the Judge. The crack of Balthier’s gun echoes through the empty spaces of the ship. The Judge dives toward Ashe, striking her shield with such force she stumbles back and nearly loses her balance. Basch takes his chance to get a good hit it, striking against the man’s armor as hard as possible. The Judge knocks him back with a swing of his clawed crescent, opening a shallow cut across the knight’s collarbone.

I manage to circle behind him, swinging myself up onto higher ground before diving down and kicking my boots into his back. He falls forward, rolling to his feet unsteadily. Vaan rushes forward, dagger raised. Predicting the Judge’s next moves, Balthier hurries to pull the thief back. The Judge lunges forward, lashing out with blade and spike alike. The sky pirate ducks under a swing, swift to fire back immediately.

Dazed, Vaan stands and staggers backward, knocking into an unsuspecting pirate. Balthier’s knocked off his steady stance, losing his balance just as Ghis moves to attack him again. Instantly, Fran’s there, bow raised to block the strike. Before she recovers from the power of the blow, he slashes upward with his alternate weapon, slicing deep along the length of her arm. Gritting my teeth, I snatch the upturned end of his tall collar and jerk him backward. Ashe takes advantage of the opening, slamming him with her broadsword.

Judge Ghis staggers into one of the nearby support columns, hitting it so hard his horned helmet clatters to the floor to reveal an aging, wrinkled face and thick gray hair. Wincing, he clutches his head with a groan. I wait, spear ready to bury itself in his side as I walk backward slowly to stand just ahead of Fran. She looks a bit off balance, hot blood dripping heavily from her arm as she clutches it to herself.

The door behind us opens and I turn to see Vossler sprint toward us, now in what I assume is his own heavy armor rather than the Imperial garb he adorned before.

“We secured an Atomos!” he calls, coming to a sudden stop, ready to lead the way. “Come!”

“An Atomos? All skiff, no ship,” Balthier sighs, sounding utterly disappointed and dismayed. “Hardly fitting for a leading man.” He eyes Fran’s arm.

“So I can fly it then?” Vaan asks hopefully.

“Are you mad?” Fran asks sharply, clutching her arm tightly as she runs past.

In the docking station, a blocky, clunky ship awaits. We pile inside. Fran moves to sit in the copilot’s seat; Balthier catches her shoulder, shaking his head.

“There should be a way to fix you up in one of these compartments.” The viera looks positively peeved, red eyes narrowing sharply, but she listens anyway. Balthier looks over at me, giving a resigned sigh. “Let’s see if you were telling the truth, then, shall we?”

“No reason to lie,” I grin, sliding into the copilot’s seat. The control panel is all too familiar. I know what’s what before Balthier even figures out how to start ship. “There.” I nod toward a lever and a cluster of switches circling it.

“I thought as much,” he murmurs, switching the engines on, eyes flitting over the board. “What I was searching for was the release on…”

I reach across the board, pressing a rectangular panel on the edge of the panel. A small compartment pops open, revealing a copper key that I snatch up quickly and turn it in a hole before slamming my palm down on a silver button. The station holding the Atomos in place releases, allowing us to finally hover freely. Balthier watches, eyebrows raised before he shakes his head and goes back to concentrating on his duty of flying the ship.

“I suppose that will do.”

“Can we go faster?” Penelo begs, leaning down between our heads.

“Not yet,” I reply, shaking my head. “Get down, all of you.”

We drift out of the station. I hold my breath as we head straight toward a group of ships coming to land in the Leviathan. Balthier all but hides his face by staring down at the board as we drift past and I practically beg the Fates to keep recognition away from the eyes of the Imperials docking. We clear the gap scot-free, breathing a collective sigh of relief.

“They passed,” Ashe breathes, straightening again.

“Had we gone too fast, they’d have noticed,” Fran says to Penelo as the girl tentatively touches her arm, whispering a healing spell under her breath. The wound on her arm slowly closes, the skin knitting itself back together and leaving no marks behind. Only streaks of blood prove there was ever a laceration.

“How long do you think it’ll be before we arrive?” I ask, looking over at Balthier. His brows pinch together, eyes locked on the skies as we pick up speed.

“An hour, at the most,” he replies, glancing at me. His eyes narrow slightly but he turns back to the clouds before I can read the meaning behind the look.

“Can Penelo and I look around?” Vaan asks suddenly, hanging between me and Balthier, excitement bursting from his bright eyes.

“I don’t see the harm in it,” I shrug, flipping a switch on the board that opens up the ship’s ventilation.  _Forgot these Imperial sots turn everything off before they leave._ The two run off almost immediately. Ashe sighs, looking at Basch sharply before crossing her arms.

“Let’s go talk,” she says shortly, leaving the room abruptly.

“Good luck,” Balthier calls to Basch as the knight moves to leave. Under his breath, he adds, “You’ll need it.”

“You have my thanks,” Basch replies, stepping out of the room. Fran stands behind her partner silently, scanning the controls and labels and lights.

“Well,” Balthier breathes, turning to me with an eyebrow raised. I merely raise mine back, waiting as I lean back in my seat. “It seems you have a talent for learning new ships rather quickly.” I roll my eyes at the suspicion in his voice.

“I stole a model like this once,” I explain, crossing my arms. “Me and D—my partner.” I shake my head. “Abandoned it somewhere once we’d used it to make our escape. I’m almost sure the consul had it taken back.”

“The consul,” Balthier repeats, his voice taking on a surprised tone. I force a sad excuse for a smile on my face.

“I told you I have big enemies.”

“And what did you do to invoke the wrath of a member of House Solidor?” he presses. Fran watches me steadily, gauging my reactions and responses. I maintain my laid-back façade, raising my impenetrable walls and turning to face the sky I’ve longed to touch for so long with a soft smile.

“That, my friend, is a secret I’ll never tell.”


	13. Seeing It Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late update. Theatre people understand: show week is absolute chaos.

The Atomos comes to the smoothest stop its bulky figure can handle, shuddering into a space in the aerodrome. Most likely, it will be spotted and taken back by the Imperials at some point. Here we have Balthier and Fran's ship waiting on the other side of the station, glimmering, gleaming, and begging to be explored. I shudder at the cool air of the sky city and watch Penelo rush past, curled blonde pigtails bouncing with every step.

"Balthier, your handkerchief," she says in a soft voice, holding up the folded, embroidered cloth the sky pirate handed over before we were taken away to Nalbina. A trip that already feels like it took place months ago. "I thought you might want it back."

"I shall wear it close to my heart," Balthier replies warmly, flashing a charming smile and taking the handkerchief from her open, offering hands. With that, he presses a hand to his chest, gives a slight bow, and shoots Vaan a wink over the swooning girl's shoulder. I glance over at Basch only to be met with tired blue eyes. He opens his mouth to speak when Vossler motions for him to join in on a conversation with Ashe. I sigh, exchanging an exhausted look with Vaan as Balthier saunters closer.

"It would seem they share a serious discussion without us," Fran sighs, shaking her head and crossing her arms. "How disappointing. After all we have done."

"Princesses will be princesses," I shrug, looking back at the trio muttering to each other in exasperation. "At least, if she is who she says she is." Vossler gives a final nod and turns, leaving. Vaan frowns, tilting his head.

"Where's he going?" he asks as Ashe and Basch join us once more.

"He will return," comes the knight's simple reply. "We are to speak with Ondore in the meantime."

I drag myself along behind the others, spear rested on my shoulder as I hold its slender form loosely in my hand. Vaan shouts something about remembering where to go and he takes the lead as Balthier falls back to walk beside Fran. I watch Ashe shoot Basch sidelong glances full of distrust and bitterness every so often.  _Quite the character, isn't she?_ Somehow Balthier winds up strolling alongside me, stretching his white-sleeved arms over his head before he watches me with languid eyes.

"Prepared to leave us behind for your rather...  _tiring_ endeavors?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I sigh, shooting him a flat, unamused look.

"I don't know, if I'm to be honest. I find this whole ordeal to be quite interesting." My eyes fall to the sandy pavement. "That, and I have a feeling that won't be the last we see of Larsa." I cock my head to the side, keeping my voice low. "Frankly, this story would be much better if this  _Ashelia_  turned out to be a fake."

"Better," he repeats indisbelief, shaking his head.

"And you?" I raise an eyebrow, watching him keep his steady, strong stride as we round corners and weave our way through crowds. "You and Fran seem to move as a separate unit. Why in Ivalice are you still tagging along?"

"I'd like to see how this all plays out," he shrugs, tracing a finger along the pointed, precise edge of his sideburns absently. His eyebrows pull tighter for a split second; seems the pirate found an imperfection. "I find it quite intriguing, this tale. The perfect story for a leading man."

"You and your big head," I huff, rolling my eyes. The  _sainikah_ at Ondore's gate grants us entry with a slight bow, nodding for another guard to guide us to the Marquis.

The whole ordeal is far too familiar, what with us waiting hours on end for night to fall before Halim Ondore has time to visit with our party. I spend the time restlessly pacing the room, trying to talk myself out of following this team of rebels. The spotlight is the opposite of what I need. However, this is the perfect device for keeping Jonan away. All seriousness aside, the tale unfolding in the presence of these princesses and knights and churls is quite an interesting one I may like to see a tad more of. Finally, I stretch my sore muscles and move to the Marquis's office to watch Ashe try to convince the stubborn man of her necessities.

"When Vossler learned my father was killed the night of the treaty-signing he returned to Rabanastre to aid my escape," the supposed princess explains, standing tall at the end of the powerful man's smooth desk. "There was still time before Vayne's reach extended too far. We thought you could protect me."

I stand beside Vaan, attempting to recall what I was doing the night of the treaty-signing that went terribly awry. Drinking in celebration with Dern inside the  _Castean._ When I heard the Empire skewed the situation and burned it to bits, not to mention Basch's supposed betrayal, I paced the ship with nothing but a sword and a pistol, muttering threats under my breath. Threats to march into the city on my own and slaughter any of Vayne's men on the spot. I had the hatch thrown wide open before Dern put a quick stop to that with a sleep spell. He was a cruel man to be sure.

"However, when I then made the announcement that you had taken your own life, I must have seemed a model citizen of the Empire," Ondore finishes, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the desk. "The announcement, you see, was Vayne's suggestion. Of course, at the time, I was reluctant, but I could not perceive his reasons." He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. "Now it is clear: he meant to drive a wedge between us."

"Halim, we are past this," Ashe reminds him, fists balled at her sides. "Bhujerba  _must_  stand with us. We can stop Vayne."

Sighing, the Marquis pushes himself to his feet with an efforted grunt. He smooths his yellow and white coat, pointedly looking Ashe in the eye, though his gaze is soft as he speaks.

"I once knew a girl whose only wish was to be carried in her uncle's arms." Ashe stares back defiantly, trying to understand why he brought this specific topic up. "Your Majesty is a woman grown now."

"Then Bhujerba will aid me?"

"Suppose for a moment you were to defeat Vayne... What then?" Ondore asks, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. "You cannot simply rebuild your kingdom with the only proof of your birthright stolen. Without that, the Gran Kiltias on Bur-Omisace cannot and will not recognize Your Majesty as the rightful heir." Chills ripple across my skin at the mere mention of the holy mountain, my fingers brushing over my armored arm as I recall the sunny temple and scattered market.  _It's been a long time since I thought of that place._  "You may yet be a princess, but without proof of your identity, you are powerless." Ondore turns to face her. "You will remain with me. We do nothing till the time is right." I bite my tongue with a wince.  _What?!_

"I cannot just wait," Ashe replies firmly, fingers pinching at her open white shirt.

"Then what does Your Majesty propose we do?" the Marquis asks sharply.

"Uncle Halim—" Ashe starts, pleading in her voice. There's a long silence before Balthier shrugs, turning to face the Marquis.

"Incidentally, what is the going rate for rescuing princesses these days?" I roll my eyes, though the greed that's long gripped my heart pulls a smile onto my face as he paces, motioning with his hand mindlessly as he talks of reward. I hardly notice Ashe turning away, searching for any source of hope. "Food would be a start—the good stuff, mind you." He sits on the edge of the desk, smirking like an absolute twat.

"This can be arranged, though it will take some time," Ondore replies, watching his niece's back as she walks away, practically trudging through despair.

"Time enough for a bath, I hope. Dirty business, you know," the sky pirate replies, winking. Penelo and Vaan watch the suppressed princess leave, clearly wishing they could help. Basch merely stares into space, frowning. "Ah, best bring a change of clothes too."

"Of course; he soiled his cuffs," I reply, mocking thick in my voice as I shove the pirate with my hip pointedly. He shrugs, merely sparing me a slight smile.

"Those must be washed  _promptly,_ I assure you, or I'll be visiting a tailor for the second time this month. That would hardly do. I'm sure you understand."

"Whatever you need," Ondore replies under his breath, waving toward the guards at the back of the room. They nod, motioning for us to follow them. Balthier smiles, nudging me with his elbow.

"You can thank me later."

"I will do no such thing," I scoff, skipping past him and pretending nothing is awry.  _My chance at escape... My chance to wrap my hands around Vayne's throat... Fates above, how do I get it back?_ I toss a grin over my shoulder. "I'll be far too busy soaking in the tub."

"I  _do_ hope that wasn't an invitation."

"Far from it," I reply, suppressing a shudder.  _Gods, **never.**_

~|~|~|~|~

I peel my eyes open, watching the steam rise off the surface of the hot bath I soak in. My head rests on the back edge of the smooth tub, my knees rising out of the water to fit the rest of my legs. I glance across the rather spacious room to see the stack of freshly cleaned clothes a servant dropped off nearly an hour ago. The steel arm guard on the table nearby glints in the dim lighting of the bathroom. I sigh, looking down at my now bared left arm.

Twisted, reddened scars twist across my skin, translucent in some parts and gnarled into thick knots in others. In some places, it's hardly flesh at all. Crinkling my nose, I drop my arm back into the water and shut my eyes. Who knows how long I've simply soaked here, thinking. The last time I saw Vayne... Gods, he looked so smug. He knew what he was doing when he locked me away in Nalbina. He knew he could get me trapped in this Resistance. Then he'd have even more reason to hunt me down for a public execution. It'd be easier to keep an eye on me. That's all he wanted.

By the time I leave the bathroom, my fingertips are crinkled, my clothes stick to me in odd places, and my wet hair brushes across the seat of my tight black pants. I adjust the lacing on the front of my shirt carefully before opening the common room we were told to meet in after washing up. Wouldn't want to give Basch an aneurysm, now would I? Ashe mopes by herself by the fireplace, kneeling with her hands rested on her thighs. Penelo waves me over and demands that I let her braid my hair. Vaan pushes me down and before long I'm seated cross-legged on the floor before the girl, playing with the plush carpet beneath me.

"It's so long," Penelo muses, giving a sharp tug with her brush. I wince, snapping for her to be careful and earning an amused look from Balthier. The sky pirate lounges across the room with a full stomach, stretched across a pale blue divan. Fran sits at a table nearby, stringing and unstringing her bow with an intense concentration overtaking her scarlet eyes. "There we go!"

"Thanks," I huff, tugging at the tightly wound hair to loosen its grip on my head.

"Hey, that was hard work," she protests weakly, watching me tug a few damp strands of brunette hair free.

"And so's this," I reply nonchalantly. "I can't have it pulled back so tightly if I'm to use it to hide from the general public."

"Hide from the...?"

"Shae's a sky pirate," Vaan reminds her, grinning and sitting across from me. "She's got people after her all the time. She doesn't have a ship right now, so she's gotta hide in the streets, right?"

"I suppose," I breathe, falling backward onto the carpet and clasping my hands behind my head.

"A sky pirate without a ship," Penelo muses, leaning back in her seat and staring at Ashe's back. "Almost like a princess without proof." Basch shoots her a dry look and I flinch.

"What happened to your ship anyway?" Vaan asks. I can't see him past my raised knees; I shrug and close my eyes.

"She doesn't work anymore."

"Well  _yeah._  But why?"

"Does it matter?" I reply coolly.

"Yes?" I frown up hearing his voice so close. "You're a sky pirate. Shouldn't you care about your ship?" I open my eyes to see the boy's face looming over mine with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Huffing, I shove him away and sit up.

"Of course I care. I don't see why you should, though. It's my ship; leave it be."

"Fine," he scoffs, standing up to pace around the room. Finally, he turns to face me, hands rested on the red wrap covering his hips. "At least tell me her name."

"The  _Castean,"_ I mutter, reaching a hand up to ruffle my hair a bit more as it dries. Penelo sighs, watching her handiwork come undone.

"The  _Castean,_  you say?" Balthier sits up, suddenly interested in the conversation. "Why that name?"

"It was the name of someone my partner knew, or so he said," I shrug with a nonchalant wave, staring hard into his green eyes defiantly. "The name of someone from Archades, I believe. He liked it, and when he suggested it, I decided I liked it as well. Does that answer your question or must I elaborate?"

"I suppose it does." The sky pirate turns to Ashe. "Are you planning to stay here, Princess? It may be wise to take your uncle's advice."

"I'll do what I see fit," she snaps, pushing herself to her feet. "And while I search for the answer, you lot continue in your greed and your foolishness." With that, she turns on her heels and heads for the dark doors closing us in here together. Basch moves to follow and she glares at him. "Stay." He sits back down. As the doors thud closed, I stifle a laugh.

"Good boy," I mock under my breath. Basch scowls, turning his eyes back to the fire.

"I'm gonna go see how she's doing," Vaan says, walking toward the doors.

"You saw just now," Balthier points out lazily, popping another plump grape into his mouth. "I will have to make a point of rescuing more princesses in the future. It seems the reward truly pays off."

"In  _food_ ," I scoff, standing to pace the room.

"Yes, although gil can be a handsome reward at the best of times," he continues, adjusting the cuffs of his puffy white sleeves. "One should look the part when playing both the respectable pirate and the—"

"The leading man, we know." I stop by an expansive window and stare out into the night sky.  _Larsa... Where are you?_ The thought of Vayne turning on his beloved brother any moment because of his assistance... It gives me goosebumps. A shiver spills down my spine. There's something else to Larsa and his help. He has an idea trapped in that smart head little of his and he wants to see it put into play before Vayne catches it. Perhaps it's already too late.

"I'm so tired," Penelo yawns, stretching her arms over her head and drawing her legs up into the chair.

"And I'm curious," Balthier murmurs, getting to his feet and heading toward the door.

"About?" I ask, turning and following at a slower pace.

"You'll just have to see."

"Fine by me. I'm bored."

I follow him down the hall and into a smaller room with two large beds. His and Fran's quarters no doubt. Frowning, I watch as he opens his window, peering down at the ground before he turns back to raise an eyebrow.

"I suppose the guards won't let us by freely."

"Running away already?" I tease, joining him at the window. The drop is long, but the collection of balconies and platforms could easily break a fall. "Seems awfully cheap for a leading man."

"Quite the contrary," he replies, swinging out of the window and dropping down to the next level. I sigh, looking around the room once more before curiosity gets the best of me. What would Ondore do? Lock us in our rooms like naughty children? "The princess had a look about her when she left and I don't believe it was one of fair play."

"I doubt many people have the  _look_ of fair play," I scoff, waiting for him to swing over the rail of the balcony and drop to the second floor.

"I doubt  _you're_ the observant type."

"Look at you," I huff, finally feeling the solid stone of the pathway underneath my boots. "Being right for once."

"As I said: rather unobservant."

Balthier slips past a guard's back easily; I dive across the path to hide in the shadows once more. Once we've slipped past the guard, we're free to run. I realize we're headed for the aerodrome as we sprint past the tavern and the market district.  _He thinks Ashe flew away?_ Shrugging, I keep up the pace. We slow once we reach the entrance to the port, careful not to draw any attention.

Balthier heads for his ship, leading the way into the dim docking station. I take a deep breath, enjoying the smells and sights of the port. It's been far too long. The  _Strahl_ looks in perfect condition, glistening under the dim lights shining from the aerodrome. However, the dim glow of the cabin catches my eye.

"Of  _course_ she did," Balthier says under his breath. The ship's hatch is already wide open, most likely a result of the princess's rush.

"Her solution was to steal the  _Strahl?_ " I raise an eyebrow, following him inside. Even far away from the cockpit, I can hear Ashe and Vaan arguing. Balthier motions for me to stay close to the opposite wall, in the shadows and out of sight as we stand outside the control center.

"This is something that I have to do! Not only for myself but for all those who have fallen." Ashe snaps, swiveling around in the pilot's seat. "I will not be made to hide!" She sighs, turning back to face the dashboard of dials, buttons, and pressure meters. "I'll fight alone if I must."

"You still have Basch, right?" Vaan asks, walking closer toward her. "Besides, you can't just go around stealing people's ships. What are you trying to do?" The princess leaps to her feet, fists balled at her sides as she raises her voice.

"I'm trying to concentrate!"

"That's quite enough, Your Majesty." I turn to see Balthier leaning across the doorway, holding an intercom speaker to his lips a sly smile. "What do you think? A bit over the top?" He turns the microphone off, turning the square device over in his hand. "In my line of work, you never know when something like this might come in handy." He presses a button on the side, mocking Ashe as her last proclamation plays back to her. " _I'm trying to concentrate!"_ He puts the speaker back in its place on the wall, stepping into the cockpit. I stand in the doorway, arms crossed.

"I'm leaving you with the Marquis," Balthier says firmly, staring the princess down.

"You can't!" Ashe cries, pushing Vaan out of her way.

"Trust me, you're better off staying here," Balthier replies dismissively, turning to leave.

"Going toe to toe with Vayne would be the last thing you want to do," I add, shrugging. "Balthier's right, as much as I hate to admit it." Ashe shakes her head, stomping her shoe against the floor.

"Suppose you kidnapped me instead?"

Balthier freezes and I can tell he's seriously considering it. Sighing, I shake my head as the princess continues, seeing her words have caught his ear.

"You're a sky pirate, aren't you? Then steal me. Is that so much to ask?"

"Speaking in stereotypes," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"What do you have that I would want?" Balthier asks cautiously, his eyes flitting up to mine as he listens.

"The Dynast-King's treasure," she replies, brows set firmly together. "The Dawn Shard is but one of the riches that lie waiting in King Raithwall's tomb." Balthier whistles, turning around to face her.  _Perhaps they won't mind if I tag along and retrieve that treasure for myself, then... It could get Jonan off my back, at least._

"King Raithwall, you say?" Balthier repeats. Someone pushes me further into the room.

"Kidnapping royalty is a serious offense," Basch warns. "It won't do much to lower the bounty on your head."

"How much is the price on  _your_ head these days, I wonder?" the pirate counters.

"Bounty, shmounty," I laugh, resting one elbow on Basch's shoulder and the other on Balthier's. "Let's kidnap us a princess!" The knight sighs, pulling away from my touch to speak with Ashe.

"You're in, then?" Balthier asks, eyeing the armored arm on his shoulder distastefully.

"Guess I'll stick around a bit longer," I shrug, flashing a grin. I keep my voice low as I draw closer. "Besides," I mutter, "I need to pay Jonan back eventually. Opportunity calls." He nods and I give him his space as Fran and Penelo enter. The viera looks over at Vaan.

"Will you be joining us?"

"What, are you kidding?" the blonde demands, already draped over a seat. "I don't wanna stick around this place"

"Then I'm coming too," Penelo announces, throwing herself into the seat behind him.

"Penelo!"

"Don't leave me here!"

"Of course not." Vaan gives in with a sigh.

"Then it's settled," Fran nods, placing her hand on the doorframe gently as a slight smirk tugs on her lips. "We should leave before the Marquis realizes she's missing, like proper kidnappers."


	14. Seas of Sand

_~2 years before~_

_"Another sweet success," I sigh, sinking back into my seat. The room, once merely a cabin with a rough-cut set of chairs and a wooden table, is decorated with lights, comfortable seating, and yellowed maps framed and hung on the smooth, paneled walls._

_"Color me impressed, Sweetheart," Dern laughs, clinking his bottle of madhu to mine. Why use glasses when we'll finish the whole thing anyway? "I honestly couldn't see that deal working out well."_

_"Yeah," I reply softly, drowning a gulp of my drink. " **Well**."_

_~12 hours ago~_

_I duck behind a crumbled wall, taking a deep breath. All I need is the Dalmascan artifact. I pray the pirate staying here isn't all that aware of his surroundings. I only know he's young, alone, vulnerable. At least, the first two are true. The last... well, we'll see._

_Creeping forward, I duck behind a trio of dry, cracked barrels. A fire crackles not too far away. The pirate is nowhere to be seen, which puts me on edge, but I know I'll sense when he's nearby. The golden figurine supposedly worth hundreds of thousands of gil should be in his camp somewhere. According to... **sources,**  buried along the walls of these ruins he's camped in._

_All clear. I scramble into the light, watching the sandy ground for inconsistency, kicking at the ground every few feet. I don't have enough time to cover my tracks. This is messy, so, so messy. But we need the money **bad.**  The  **Castean** 's falling apart and we can't fly her anywhere but a one-way trip to an aerodrome for fixing. Frustrated, I turn sharply to check the perimeter only to crash into a wall of skin and bones._

_"What're you up to?" a voice snarls, dangerously calm. I reach for my sword only for the man to shove me into the wall, bashing my skull against the firm rock and pulling my weapon away in my daze. "You sky pirates are getting sloppy."_

_"Keep your damn treasure then," I growl, glowering up at him through swimming vision. "I'll leave you alone." My head throbs relentlessly and something warm's trickling down the back of my neck. The young man clicks his tongue, smirking at me through nearly black bangs._

_"The treasure was merely a lure, my dear," he replies, flashing a yellowed smile. "Though, I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to get a **girl** out here." He traces a stinking finger across my face. "Care to stay a bit longer?"_

_He leans his weight against me, crushing me to the wall. I spit into his face, kneeing his crotch as hard as I can. Grunting, he moves just enough for me to run away in a dizzy frenzy. There's an explosion of pain my back and I suppress a scream, forcing myself to keep running as another burst of heat and pain erupts next to the first bullet he put in my back. I'm choking on blood, listening to him cackle as I drag myself away._

_Throwing myself into a rocky alcove, I search desperately for a potion or really anything to staunch the bleeding. **That little bastard...**  I groan, cringing when the bullets buried in my flesh cut deeper with every movement. I can hear the boy calling me in that mocking voice, begging me to come out and play. I shut my eyes, feeling my head loll back and lean against the stone.  **Gods above...**_

_There's a gunshot nearby and I half expect to feel searing heat tearing me down to the gates of Hades. But there's nothing but pure silence. **What the...?**_

_"I'll have you know you both owe me your life **and**  a bullet."_

_"Who...?" I peel my eyes open to see eyes the color of the deep sea staring back at me, glittering both with rage and excitable energy. Eyes so familiar I find myself choking again. The boy kneels beside me, holding up an x-potion with a teasing smile, still as dazzling and bright as always. Now, though, it almost looks as if he's baring his teeth, holding back the urge to snap his jaws around my throat and tear me to pieces. If I were him, I would've killed the sea pirate just to I peel me apart bit by bit. He has every reason... But I already know what he's doing instead. "Jonan," I breathe, wincing when he presses a hand to a bleeding wound._

_"I knew you didn't forget me," he replies, his voice light. Too light, like he's inhaled an entire ship and he's ready to fire the artillery at me any second now. His voice lowers and rage replaces the ship. "I knew you didn't forget my **father**."_

_"You know I would change it all if I could," I force out, spitting blood into the sand. Jonan shakes his head, sitting back on his heels. That potion still taunts me, glinting in the moonlight of the Westersand. "I never meant for anything to happen to either of you."_

_"You were a fool," he muses, cocking his head to the side. His shirt is white, ruffled but pulled tight over a slim form. His pants are just as tight, navy blue fading to the black of his ornate boots. Compared to the scrawny sailor's son he used to be, he's grown quite a bit of muscle. "Unfortunately, the foolish pay for their folly whether they knew  the consequences beforehand or not."_

_"You got that ship, didn't you?" I ask, catching the slightest glint of metal just past his shadowy frame. "How old are you now?"_

_"Sixteen," he shrugs. Not one to let me change the subject too easily, he sneers. "Do you know what it's like to see Imperial soldiers trample your ramshackle home to blow your father's head off before your very eyes? Do you know what it's like to be tortured for information as a **child**  because a runaway was reckless in her escape?" He presses a hand to the rock, right beside my head as he faces me head-on._

_"Do you know what that's like, Shae? No, of course you don't. You didn't so much as apologize when I sent you that letter. You never lifted a finger to help me or my father other than throwing incriminating cash our way." He traces the edge of the glass bottle across my lips with narrowed eyes. "I should watch you bleed to death here. Instead, I've already stopped your **matey** and lent several hundred thousand gil for repairs and improvements. I might as well carry through, hm?"_

_"Jonan, take it back," I snap. "We don't need your money."_

_"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, flicking long, sandy blonde hair out of his blue eyes. "I'm fully aware you don't. What **I** need is for you to owe me something so I can fairly make you  **pay** for your crimes." He glares into my eyes, refusing to back down. "I suppose that much gil... you'd have to make monthly payments, hm? Big ones." He smiles that bright, boyish, innocent smile. "Unfortunately, I cannot put you through  **so much** pain merely because Papa was brutally murdered in the case of your sloppiness." He opens the bottle, hooking a finger under my chin and forcing my head to tilt back. "Now, drink up,  **darling**. You'll need your strength to earn enough money to pay me back."_

_Unable to disobey with my head swimming and my muscles useless, I swallow every drop of the shimmering blue liquid. I can feel my body closing its wounds almost immediately, boosted with a rush of liquid magick energy. Blinking the fog out of my eyes, I dare to ask Jonan my next question._

_"What happens if I don't have the money for a monthly payment?"_

_"Oh," he laughs, throwing his head back to give out a loud, boyish giggle. He turns his attention back toward me, a curiously devilish look overtaking his eyes as he smirks. A cool finger traces along the curve of my jaw before he ducks his mouth down close to my ear, hot breath washing down my shoulder. "I always considered you a pretty one. I suppose you'll have to find ways to... **hold me over**  until you have the money."_

The  _Strahl_ looms overhead, anchored to the rocks below and floating where we left it. With a single press of a button, Balthier turns his ship purely invisible, earning shock and whispered wonder from Vaan and Penelo. Ashe huffs, turning to face Balthier.

"This 'come in handy' often?"

"It's tough being popular," Balthier replies, ignoring her tone. "Wouldn't want admirers dropping in while we're away." Fran nods, sighing as her partner relentlessly adjusts the cuffs on his shirt. "Well now, that's as far as she goes. We'll be in jagd from here onwards."

"Across the sandsea, to the Valley of the Dead. And to King Raithwall's tomb below," Ashe muses.

"So, when you're in jagd, skystones don't work at all." I turn to see Vaan explaining our reasons for walking to Penelo. "That's why we gotta hoof it the rest of the way, ya see?"

"Happy you get to teach me something for a change?" Penelo teases.

"Well, if you wanna be a sky pirate, you gotta know your—" His eyes flash as he suddenly processes her words. "Hey! What do you mean 'for a change'?!"

"C'mon, accept it!"

"At least we thought to bring entertainment," Balthier mutters.

"A whole circus, just for us," I scoff, brushing past Basch to stare out into the sandsea. "Just hope they stay outta my way." Ashe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. I smile, turning back to shut the two kids up. "Y'know, Vaan, my ship had an installment that let it fly in jagd."

"What?!" the blonde races toward me, Balthier raising his eyebrows sharply.

"Do tell," he encourages. And the march across the desert starts.

"We had a space on our ship just for my partner and his knack for building things," I explain, scanning over the endless waves of golden sand as we walk. "Mostly, his inventions were unfeasible concoctions that did no good. The ideas were always there though." I can't help but smile, remembering Dern's face as he held out the big pile of augmented stones for the first time. "He developed a skystone that ignored the pressures and balances and rules of being in jagd. We went  _everywhere_ we wanted." I sigh, shaking my head and erasing his face from my mind before I'm overcome with anger.

"Wow," Vaan gushes, bouncing around me. "Did ya hear that, Pen? Someday, we could have a ship that flies in jagd!" He turns to me. "Hey, your partner. It's gotta be a sensitive subject, I know, but is he still, uh, around? May we could get some from him later on."

"No," I shake my head, fighting the feelings of suffocation at the entire party's stares. Of being studied by six people at once. "He's buried outside the  _Castean._ "

That shuts the orphans up—for a little while, at least. We come up over a ridge in the sand, emerging from a short, contained corridor of rocky cliffs. The view steals my breath away just as it did the first time I saw this. Past the dried, hardened ground crashes golden waves of liquid sand, glittering and rolling in the beating sunlight.

Awed, Vaan kneels at the edge of the sand sea, scooping up a palm full of warm, golden sand. The grains flow off his hand like liquid and the boy takes a deep breath, staring out across the water.  _It's like he's seeing the world for the very first time._ I soak in the grin that spreads across his youthful face. _Perhaps he is._

"Vaan!" Penelo calls, waving an arm over her head and drawing him back toward the main group.

"We should rest," Balthier says, turning to Ashe. She frowns but she doesn't object, instead watching Basch climb up to higher ground.

Vaan laughs and I turn to see him perched in a tree. He shakes a branch and three coconuts topple down one at a time. Proud, he jumps down and tosses one toward me. I catch the dark fruit with a wince and raise an eyebrow at the boy.

"Take half of that to Pen, will you?" he grins, cocking his head to the side.

"And how do you suppose I open it?"

Wordlessly, Fran snatches the coconut from my grasp and drops it onto the sandy ground. Before I can react, she raises her bow and strikes the pointed end into the side of the waiting fruit. She picks it up and digs her nails into the hole, ripping the nut apart with her bare hands and handing it back. I stare back at her silently.

"Most impressive, Fran," Balthier chuckles with a slow clap, gauging my reaction.

"Thanks," I mutter, taking the two halves and finding my way up to Basch and Penelo. Taking a sip from the rough edge of one side, I hand the other to the blonde girl as she speaks to the knight.

"So, where exactly is Raithwall's tomb?" She eyes Basch curiously as she nibbles on the fleshy white coconut waiting in her tanned hands.

"Far to the west. We must first cross the Ogir-Yensa, and beyond that the Nam-Yensa, before we reach the tomb. An expanse of desert larger still than all of Dalmasca."

"Dalmasca isn't all that large," I point out, taking another sip of the watery substance inside my half of the coconut. I honestly can't decide whether I like it or not.

"That may be so, but we must pace ourselves," he continues, turning to face us. "If you grow tired, we stop and take rest."

"You don't have to worry about me," Penelo smiles, chewing another bite of coconut. "I'm tougher than I look."

"You are," Basch laughs, looking at me. "And how should a sky pirate fare on her own two legs?"

"You seem to forget that I have my own two legs whether I'm in the sky or on the ground," I tease, grinning. "I should be fine. I've been without a ship enough times to know the basics of survival."

"Good," he nods. I offer my half of the coconut, raising an eyebrow.

"You've got to stay hydrated, old man."

"Old man," he repeats under his breath. "I've my own water, but thank you. Keep your own strength up."

"You say that as if my strength has failed  _you_ ," I scoff, dumping the rest of the coconut water onto the sand and taking a bite of the inside. Basch shakes his head, walking past me.

"Is it so unreasonable to suspect that it might, sky pirate?"

"You certainly had no problem with my occupation when we escaped Nalbina," I point, grinning like a fool and following like an irritating child.

"I had no idea the Fates would press us together again," he replies dryly, approaching Ashe. Balthier and Fran watch the scene with amusement carved into their faces as they rest under the shade of a sun-toasted palm tree.

"Yes, the exact same Fates that drew us together to begin with. Am I wrong?" I cock my head to the side, earning an arched eyebrow from the princess.

"Are you finished bickering?"

"Bossy one, aren't you?" I fire back, waltzing around her dramatically, coconut shell balanced on two fingers over her head. "What say I let you take a quick nap, hm? Might refresh that attitude of yours."

"Enough," Basch sighs, shaking his head and staring dead ahead at Balthier. "I was under the impression we brought only two children."

"I suppose I was wrong," Balthier shrugs, getting to his feet and staring up into the sky wistfully. A small, mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "A rare occurrence for the leading man, mind you. Relish in it while you can."

"Relish in it once we've arrived," Ashe snaps, drawing her sword.

"You're my hostage, are you not?" Balthier raises an eyebrow, languidly crossing the sandy ground to stand by her. "I believe that means you follow my direction—in most cases, anyway."

"Let's just twist the story a bit and say this princess turned the roles around. You follow her orders now, hm?" I rest an elbow on Ashe's shoulder, earning a look of disgust from said princess. "You can't stop a princess from doing what she has to do,  _Sir Leading Man."_

"That's  _Lord_ Leading Man to you," Balthier retorts, standing uncomfortably close to tower over me, smirking. "You know something of princesses?"

"I know something of this one," I reply, motioning toward Ashe and stubbornly refusing to lose the deadly battle of eye contact between the two of us. Green irises stab into my vision, swimming with all sorts of traps and secret passages to explore. A river to the floodgates of mystery.

"I do believe this  _princess_ is the most difficult hostage we've ever held, Fran," Balthier says lazily, looking past me toward the viera. I roll my eyes, backing away.

"I do not recall any hostages," comes his slightly confused and annoyed reply.

"Of course not," I reply sweetly, giving an extra swing to my hips as I walk away. "You were probably too busy nibbling on baby carrots to notice Balthier's new playthings."

Vaan rolls on the bank and clutches his sides, howling with laughter as I yelp and leap away from a sharp spray of sand. The glint of a silver-tipped arrow grins back at me from the ground.   


	15. Crumbling Down

I wince as a grain of sand crunches between my teeth, the scorching metal I sit on burning my skin through my thin clothing. The shade hardly provides enough shelter from the heat, not that that’s my biggest issue at the moment. I can handle some dry desert weather. However, the snarky remarks about sky pirates from our newly-acquired Vossler, the bickering of Vaan and Penelo, and the muttering between Balthier and Fran all have me on edge.

Basch leans against the wall beside me, watching Ashe talk to Vossler from a distance with rueful eyes. When Vossler first found us resting on a bridge, having chased us down unexpectedly, he half-lectured Basch about associating himself and the princess with sky pirates and failing “ _Her Majesty_.” After that, the knights avoided each other. Balthier and Fran spotted an incoming tribe of Urutan-Yensa riding across the waves of the sand sea and we bolted. From that point, we killed each little creature that stood in our path, as they were the utmost unfriendly of beings. The desert tends to be as unforgiving as its sun.

“What’s up?” Vaan asks dryly, slouching beside me and taking a lazy drink from his water bag. Swiping a drop off his chin with the back of his hand, he offers the bag. I accept it, taking a long drink of the warm water.

“Just regaining my strength,” I sigh, leaning my head against the rusted iron wall behind me and watching Balthier pace restlessly. “Though, it’s really not necessary. I could continue for hours at this rate.”

“Used to hoofing it?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Huh,” Vaan huffs, pushing his sweaty hair out of his tanned face. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m still dying. Just a little bit, though,” he adds with a sheepish grin. I smile, handing his water back.

“I don’t blame you. This isn’t my…  _preferred_ climate, but,” I shrug, “it’s what we’ve got to do to get to Raithwall’s, isn’t it?”

“Unless we had your partner’s stone,” he nods, crossing his arms behind his head. “But he’s not here.” His eyes brighten and he turns to me with a hopeful face. “Hey, is it still on your ship?”

“No,” I mutter, noticing the slight change in Balthier’s walk as he listens in. “It’s a long story, however…” I shake my head. “To put it short, an old  _friend_ of mine stole it.” Suppressing bitter memories, I scowl up at the sky pirate. “You could be a little less obvious.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” Balthier counters, coming to a stop and looping his thumbs through his belt loops. “Your friend… The same  _gentleman_ who stopped you in Rabanastre, by chance?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, eyes flickering to Basch’s intrigued face. “The name’s Jonan. He wasn’t always like that, you know. I knew him when he was about Lord Larsa’s age.”

“No one remains the same for that long,” the pirate murmurs, tossing a glance toward Ashe. “Are you ready to depart? We should be nearing it soon.”

Vaan groans, dragging himself up. He offers me a hand and I take it, pulling myself to my feet. Penelo skips past me, grabbing her friend’s arm defensively and shooting me a weary look. I roll my eyes, cringing as another grain of sand scrapes my teeth.

It’s another long dredging drag through the sand before we cross from the complete darkness of a small cave and into the light of a massive, towering temple. Awed, I step into the light, watching the sun reflect off of polished, preserved pillars of sandstone. Eight aligned perfectly lead up to a domed square tomb decorated with spikes and towers and bars. The massive walls of a hidden, rocky valley rise up around us, hiding us from the view of the world.  _A secret haven._

I reach out a hand and my fingers brush against one of the massive pillars; I shudder. I can practically  _hear_ the power emitting from this place. Ashe sticks close to Vossler and the knight eyes me with distrust. Penelo cries out, pointing toward something in the sky.

“What’s  _that?!”_

“Hey, look out!”

I hardly have time to duck. The wind kicks up the sand as a massive  _glowing_ bird dives toward me, talons extended. Rolling to my feet, I grip my spear and pull it free from my back in one hard tug. Basch and Vossler step in front of Ashe, swords drawn. The princess huffs, pushing her way between them and raising her shield. The monstrous bird swoops down once more before hovering before me, towering overhead and sending a sandstorm my way with every flap of its powerful wings.

Wincing, I  _feel_ an arrow fly past and see it bury itself in the bird’s illuminated golden feathers. Rearing its head, the beast snaps at Vaan, whipping its vermillion wings about relentlessly. I duck behind a pillar, closing my eyes as I press my back to the carved stone. Taking a deep breath, I let the crack of Balthier’s gun cue my entrance into battle.

My muscles spring into action and my mind goes blank, bloodthirsty. Clenching the center of my spear between my teeth, I force my fingers into the grooves in the rock and climb, climb, climb. My jaw aches but I ignore it, ripping the lightweight weapon free and squinting down at the battle below in hopes of seeing better.

“It seems one of our pirates is running,” Vossler grits, voice loud enough for me to hear as he swings his sword at the bird’s side and slices through its thin skin.

“Shae?” Vaan swivels around and frowns up at me.

“You have entirely too little faith in me,” I call back with a disapproving frown, gripping my spear and digging my heels into the pillar.

Just as Fran’s fire spell finishes lapping at the bird’s feathers, I push off, javelin poised and ready as I soar toward the ground. Rather, toward the monster’s skull. I smile; I always  _did_ love to fly. The jeweled spearhead of my weapon cleanly buries itself in the beast’s head with so much force, it pins the skull to the sandy ground. Unable to stay on through the power of the impact, I roll off the slope of its feathered head and to my feet. Grinning, I find one hand on my hip and the other dramatically extended to my left. Vaan laughs and I bow, accepting his playful applause.

“Most impressive,” Vossler grunts dryly, turning to Ashe. “Where did you find this one?”

“The sewers,” the princess responds, eyeing me with clear distaste as she always has. I roll my eyes, walking back toward my embedded weapon.

“I would appreciate a ‘thank you’ every now and then, you know.” I take hold of my spear and giving it a good, hard pull. My heart skips and I hurry to cover up my weakness by resting my boot against the side of the bird’s head and cocking my head to the side.

“Yes, I have noticed your aptitude for a flourish or two when it comes to battle,” comes Ashe’s irritated voice. “Flying about like a freed bird, once caged.” I take a deep breath, feeling my hands start to tremble as she speaks, unaware of her own impactful words. “It seems to me you’ve always been free to do as you please.”

“It seems to me you’re wrong,” I grumble, giving another sharp tug and using my foot against the bird’s head as leverage. Basch chuckles and I scowl at him, feeling my cheeks flush.

“Shae, Shae, Shae,” Balthier practically  _sings_ in mock disappointment, a slight smile playing on his lips as he saunters by. “You never fail to intrigue me with your childish grandeur.”

“Shut it,” I snap, pulling with all my might. Penelo giggles and takes Vaan’s arm, running past me. Ashe and Vossler look all high and mighty as they carry on. Finally, I turn to the man who remains with a helpless plea scrawled in my eyes. Basch shakes his head with a sigh and steps up to help. Gripping the spear with one hand, he pulls it free and hands it over.

“The action itself was most impressive,” he compliments, offering a gentle smile. “Though, I believe you must improve your own strength as to not become dependent on my sword arm.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I breathe, strapping my lance to my back and tossing a quick, “Thanks” over my shoulder.

We ascend the wide sandstone staircase as a group. I look around at the towering temple, the tomb of Ashe’s ancestors. Carvings and details of all sorts decorate the walls, curving in and out and twisting around to create patterns similar to those of most Dalmascan tombs, only far more expansive than those of simply powerful citizens. Ashe holds out a hand and we come to a stop close to the top of the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she carries on, slowly and steadily.

“Long ago, the gods granted their favor to King Raithwall, who would oversee the subjugation of a vast territory spanning from Ordalia to Valendia. Here he forged the Galtean Alliance.” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Though he is called the Dynast-King, upon establishing the Alliance, he demonstrated compassion for his people, and disdain for needless war. A philosophy passed on to his successors.”

 _Then why the needless tantrum for your throne?_ I shake my head. I  _hate_ Vayne Carudas Solidor with all the power of my soul, but this war, this  _destruction_ that these endeavors might bring _…_ All because a princess wants her seat on a glorified chair. The lives of those such as Vaan’s brother or Penelo’s parents, lost. _All because of_ … Huffing, I cross my arms tightly, avoiding Basch’s curious gaze.

“One that would bring peace and prosperity for hundreds of years to follow,” Ashe continues. “It was during this time of peace that the city-states of Archadia and Rozarria, each members of Raithwall’s Alliance, took root and flourished.” Her slender hand reaches out and traces the stone of the tomb.

“Raithwall left three relics signifying descent from the Dynast-King. Of these, the Midlight Shard was given to what would become House Nabradia, and the Dusk shard to my ancestors, the founders of Dalmasca. The last of these relics was the Dawn Shard. It remained hidden here, known only to those of royal blood.”

“As though the Dynast-King foresaw the very plight before us now,” Vossler speaks up. Ashe rests her hand over her heart, eyeing the front of the tomb.

“None save descendants of the King are suffered within. If we attempt to enter without proof of such lineage—”

“There’s no guarantee we'll make it out alive,” Balthier finishes dryly, easily predicting how such things come to be. “Vicious beasts. Fiendish traps. Something like that?” He rests his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised as he waits impatiently.

“But you must consider the prize,” Ashe reminds him, her eyes earnest. “The Dawn Shard lies within. And Raithwall’s treasure.”

“And there was I thinking this was going to be hard!” Balthier steps past her, earning a scowl from Vossler. “Where do we start?”

“Fates above, someone calm the man,” I tease, giving Fran a teasing smile. She shakes her head, though I can tell she’s amused.

“I have yet to discover what tames him.”

“I’ve a thirst for treasure,” Balthier returns, shrugging theatrically. “Who’s to blame such a pirate who searches for his own riches?”

“If you’re making a debt joke, it’s a terrible one,” I scoff, brushing past him and eyeing the strange statue before me.

“All sky pirates must owe one debt or another,” Vossler comments, crossing his arms. “If not a simple cleansing of their filthy deeds.”

“And what does the doctor suggest?” I retort, shooting him a glare. “Oh, no solution? Keep your jowls shut, then, old dog.” Vossler’s jaw tightens but he says no more as Balthier laughs.

“A fiery spirit, too. Too bad you’ve decided to be an adamant enemy of mine.”

“If you’re done insulting my regimen,” Ashe cuts in, motioning for the others to join us as we circle around the glowing device. Vaan and Penelo whisper back and forth, excited and curious as the princess touches the statue. The world immediately goes black and flashes white. Suddenly, we’re in a dark hall illuminated only by a row of flaming torches. Vaan gasps; Ashe and her knights leave as if nothing happened.

“What was  _that?!_ ”

“A contraption you’d find in all but the most rudimentary ancient ruin. One touch, and off you’re whisked to you know not where.” Balthier and Fran take off and, with a shrug, I follow as he continues speaking. “The finer points of their operation elude me, but they’re handy all the same. What more need a sky pirate know?”

“You know not where?” Penelo repeats, brows furrowed. “That seems a bit… Dangerous, don’t you think?”

“All part of the thrill,” I shrug, tossing her a smile. “Besides, what this oaf doesn’t understand, I think I may have a grasp on. The device appears to work within a field of magick similar to that of a magnetic field. The teleportation happens as a split-second transfer of magick energy between the two posts, balancing either side and sending whoever triggered the imbalance to the other side. Simple, really—if you’ve taken time to study magick mechanics, at any rate.”

“Unfortunately, I deem most things far more important that magick mechanics,” Balthier mutters back. “What good is knowledge if it has no practical use aside from bragging?”

“What use is a sky pirate who can’t brag a bit using their knowledge?” I fire back, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t let your facts inflate your ego,” Balthier shrugs. “I find it leaves your pride with nasty scars once you’re proven useless.”

“Honestly, will you ever stop?” Ashe huffs, shooting us a glare.

“Let us continue,” Vossler nods, ushering us down a dimly lit stone staircase. We filter onto a narrow walkway; I take the rearuneasily. Suddenly, a loud crunch echoes behind me. I turn to see the giant statue of a massive, sword-bearing insect coming to life. Slowly, it drags itself toward us with pointed, dagger-like feet.

“Fight or run, we better decide fast!” Vaan calls, staring hard at Ashe. The princess watches the monstrosity, startled. I back away from the wall, glancing back at the doors at the end of the passageway.

“I doubt we’d have enough space to fight here,” I offer, though I reach for my spear reluctantly.

“We cannot simply  _run!”_  Vossler argues.

“Sure we can,” Balthier replies, turning and hurrying toward the door. “One foot in front of the other!”

“I like that plan,” Vaan calls, sprinting away. I jerk the frozen princess’s arm, bringing her back to the land of the living. We run as fast as we can, Vaan bursting through the doors first and Basch slamming them shut once we’re all through and gasping for breath. I breathe out a bitter laugh, choking when two red lights flash at the end of the hall and torches flare to reveal another wall headed for us. Vaan groans. “Not another one.”


	16. Raithwall's Tomb

_~3 years before~_

_“You really should prepare.”_

_“For?” I murmur, eyes narrowed as I concentrate on the marks coming from my pencil. A new design for the dashboard came to me when I was halfway between sleep and awareness last night; I need to record it before I forget._

_“Well, we’re attending a ball in a few days’ time, are we not?” Dern looms over my shoulder, dark eyes scanning over the page. “The plans can wait; I can already make out what you want, anyway.”_

_“I’ll forget them,” I mutter. He chuckles and suddenly my sketchbook is ripped away. Dern closes it neatly as I protest. “Dern! I need to—”_

_“Practice. For all you’re worth, I guarantee you can’t dance.”_

_“What’s it matter?” I huff, slumping in my seat. “We’ll stand out less if we just talk nonsense with others, won’t we? We’re only invading some party to steal some jewels.”_

_“No, then we’ll be remembered far easier,” he shakes his head, kneeling before my seat and taking my wrists into his large, tanned hands and grinning. “My dearest Shae, would you allow me to—”_

_“No,” I sniff stubbornly, pulling my hands away and standing. I walk over to the largest, most expansive window on the ** **Castean**** and watch the still ground below._

_“Don’t be that way,” Dern scoffs, coming to stand behind me. He rests one warm hand on my shoulder. I can see him in the reflection of the glass, watching me with that stupid grin. I fight my own smile. “I promise I won’t laugh.”_

_“I promise I don’t believe you.” Raising an eyebrow and offering the slightest of knowing smiles, I turn to face him. “Besides, I’ll catch you glancing down the front of my shirt.”_

_“I was eighteen, Shae, give it a rest,” he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. “That was two years ago.”_

_“And I’m still only seventeen, so it’s ** **still**** not warranted,” I fire back playfully. He chuckles, shaking his head and tugging at the dark patch of hair on his chin._

_“Ah, so next year it’s acceptable?”_

_“Don’t get your hopes up. You’re still ** **so**** much older than me, remember?”_

_“Yes, old Malachaius would have a fit if he saw us daring to share a ship, wouldn’t he?”_

_“He’d fall to his little nu mou knees and beg the Fates to burn us in Hades,” I laugh, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “No, I suppose I’m young and dumb, so I must trust my elders to teach me.” Dern raises an eyebrow; I hit the back of his head. “So, teach me.”_

_“It’s only three years,” he huffs, taking hold of one of my hands._

_A heavy weight finds my waist and pulls me close; I feel my face burning up with the unfamiliar proximity to this man. Granted, he’s my best friend and I wouldn’t distrust him for a billion gil, but it’s an odd situation for the two of us to be sure. We’re so close that I can smell the madhu on his breath and the woody cologne he insists on wearing every day. I can feel the muscles underneath my fingertips tense and the hand at my hip tighten as he takes a step. I stumble along, letting myself get frustrated._

_“Loosen up, Shae,” he instructs in a light voice, tapping a finger against my waist. “It’s like trying to teach a brick.”_

_“Maybe if you slowed down a bit I could—”_

_“Here.” He stops, looking down at me sternly. “Close your eyes.”_

_“What? No.”_

_“Shae, just trust me.” I glare back up at him stubbornly before the genuine smile on his face breaks my resolve and my eyes fall shut all too easily. His hand moves to the small of my back and presses my body to the massive, muscular frame in front of me. “Don’t tense up. Just feel what I do instead of trying to copy it through sight.”_

_Chewing the inside of my cheek, I continue to stumble along with his motions. I do, however, begin to pick up the simple movements easier. He laughs when I trip and I bite back a reply, keeping my eyes shut as we go around and around and around, just as we always do._

_“There, see? Not so hard.”_

_“That’s what you think,” I breathe, peeling my eyes open to see him grinning again. How one runaway pirate can hold so much joy I may never know. “What?”_

_“Nothing. Can’t a man smile every once in a while without being interrogated?”_

_“You’re ** **always**** smiling,” I huff, shaking my head._

_“I’m always happy.”_

_“I don’t believe you.”_

_“You think I would lie to you?” He raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes, flicking at the silver ring in his ear._

_“Maybe you would. You could, if you wanted. I’d probably believe you.”_

_“Somehow, I doubt that.”_

_“Says the happy man. I changed my mind. Wipe the frown off your face before I do it for you.”_

_“So, you’ve resorted petty threats. Interesting development, Shera.”_

_“And you have yet to change, Adamar.”_

_“Question,” he says, cocking his head to the side. From here, I could count the faded freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. “Would you lie to ** **me****?”_

_“Of course,” I grin. “I lie to you about plenty of things, Dern.”_

_“Oh?” He’s clearly amused._

_“Well, to start, I always lie when you ask if you woke me,” I ramble, staring at our intertwined fingers. “And when you build something, I always call it impressive. Sometimes I tell you I’m drawing designs when I’m really drawing ** **anything**** else.” I shrug, forcing my eyes up to his as a teasing grin crosses my lips. “Remember that instance where you left the shower completely naked and I  ** **saw?**** I may have immortalized it somewhere in that sketchbook.”_

_“ ** **Fates,**** Shae, why,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “The moment was awful enough as it was.”_

_“Blackmail.”_

_“People might ** **pay**** to see that.”_

_“Then I’ll make a good coin or two.”_

_“I’d say a couple hundred coins, actually.”_

_“If your ego takes up any more space in this room, ** **Adamar,**** I may just have to crack a window,” I retort. “I was thinking of sending the drawing to your brother anyway.”_

_Right then, Dern slips up and stumbles. In an effort not to crush me, he chooses to fall backward, leaving me sprawled across him in stunned silence. And then I laugh, sitting with my knees on either side of his hips._

_“I suppose that’s not what you wanted to hear?”_

_“Most definitely ** **not,**** ” he scoffs, frowning up at me. “My family needs no such image in their heads. In fact, they need not know their wayward son still lives.”_

_“Oh, and I need the image in ** **my**** head?”_

_“You don’t get a choice,” he shrugs, sitting up and pushing me off him. He grins as I stand, stretching his burly arms over his head. “Besides, you may just ** **want****  it someday.”_

_“You’re repulsive,” I huff, kicking his knee. “Now are you going to help me, you big oaf, or am I wasting my time?”_

The next room is expansive, massive, filled floor to ceiling with staircases and platforms and doors. Flickering torches dance with their eternal flames, casting eerie shadows onto the ornate, carving-coated walls of the tomb. Rough, golden stone is the material of choice for every item in sight, aside from heavy iron doors decorated top to bottom in hieroglyphics and twisting designs. Balthier and Fran break off, murmuring back and forth beside a short railing. Vossler takes a deep breath of the musty air, dark eyes scanning the room.

“Incredible,” the knight breathes, stepping up beside me and Ashe. Frowning, he glances at the pirates conspiring a short distance away. “It wounds me to look on as they pillage so solemn a place.”

“Yet without help, you and I are as nothing," the princess reminds him.

“I can’t say I blame them,” I admit with a shrug, watching Fran fight a rare smile. Vossler looks at me with disdain.

“Of course. You, too, are after riches here. Something about debts, I assume?”

“I wonder where you got that idea,” I scoff, offering a slight smile. “That, and I would rather have some gil to fix my ship up before I resort to sailing the seas alone. I don’t have much respect for  _those_ types.”

“I don’t have respect for any pirate types.”

“I understand,” Ashe nods. “Though, I sense Shae is of a different sort than Balthier altogether.”

“Do elaborate,” I encourage, intrigued.

“He thinks ever and always of his own profit. Assure him of it, and he shall remain true to our cause.” She spares me a quick glance. “Not that you would stay if there was no personal profit for you as well, though, I’ve seen you be far more caring than he. It’s certainly an attribute I can learn appreciate.”

“I do not share Your Majesty’s trust,” Vossler sighs.

“We will continue this later,” Ashe says dryly. “Now we should concern ourselves with finding the Dawn Shard.” She steps forward, eyes scanning the darkness. “It sleeps, in waiting. Somewhere deep within.”

“How can you be certain?” Vossler asks.

“I can hear its call.” With that she starts down the stairs, shoulders squared and chin held high. I huff, shaking my head.  _Careful, Princess. Last time I listened to voices ** **terrible**** things happened._

~|~|~|~|~

Black blood splatters to the stone floor as I pull my spear free from a rotting chest, grimacing at the mess. Basch wipes off his stained blade, frowning as Penelo heals a cut on Vaan’s arm.

“Best save your energy for when it truly counts,” he advises, his pale eyes gently stern.

“You sense something?” Balthier asks, staring down the barrel of his cooling gun.

“There always seems to be big trouble at the ends of these tombs,” Vossler replies, eyes narrowed on the pirate. “I thought you of all people might know that.”

“I apologize for my inadequacy,” Balthier shrugs, eyes wandering around the dimly lit room. “However, I do believe your trouble is fast approaching. This is the third switch we’ve located.”

“Perhaps there’s a new waypoint connected to them all?” Basch suggests, staring at the familiar statue positioned before us.

“I don’t see the point in standing around,” I admit.

My feet ache from an eternity of wandering dark halls and stabbing at zombies and bats and liches. Bruises stain my skin and a shallow lash caked with dry blood rests on my collarbone. The others are in the same general shape, smudged with blood and dirt and grime. The Mist is heavy in the air, rippling waves of glinted color and our own reflections floating around us like a blanket of mirrors. A Mist that aids our own magicks, yes, but a Mist that aids our enemies’ as well.

“Wait,” Penelo speaks up, resting her hands on her hips. “Remember those doors we couldn’t open earlier?”

“There could be a mechanism in these pillars that’s unlocked those doors,” I nod, frowning when Vossler scowls at me. “It’s worth a try.”

“I think we need to stop for a rest,” Ashe’s defender cuts in. I roll my eyes, shoving Vossler out of my way.

“And I think you need to shut your mouth.”

We backtrack through a series of winding halls, Vaan and Penelo chatting with Fran like they’re wandering the streets of Rabanastre. Basch pushes on the pair of heavy stone doors that were previously locked. The sound of scraping rock echoes through the empty spaces of the tomb. He turns to face us and Ashe nods.

“In we go, then.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Basch breathes, leading the way into the room.

The ceilings are lower than they were before, if not more ornate. Through my boots, I feel the uneven tiles as we walk down a long series of staircases. The ground evens out onto a platform and turns to the left. Basch leads on without hesitation, taking the final three steps into a room of no light. I follow uneasily. Just as the final sole hits the new floor level, a row of torches bursts into flames, illuminating the room foot by foot. My heart catches at the base of my throat.

Before us stands the figure of some odd creature, towering high over even Fran’s ears. Bright orange fur lines its head and its limbs, a stark contrast to gray skin and iron horns. A beam of light bursts from underneath its massive, clawed feet as it steps forth, shaking the ground. An ogre-like hand grips an ornate, hooped sword to its left and it throws its head back to release a horrible roar. Vossler is the first to move, rushing ahead of Ashe and raising his blade.

“Its motions should be slow because of its size, but exercise caution!”

“You betcha!” Vaan calls, drawing his daggers and rushing toward the monster.

“Have you no fear?” Basch mutters to himself, pulling his own sword free and sticking close to Ashe as she presses into the fight.

The room quickly grows unbearably hot; Penelo casts reflect spells over each person as efficiently as she possibly can. A blast of fire flows from the beasts palm to me; the heat stops before it burns my skin, doing no damage to me at all. I fight a grin and call up the ice spell I stole in Rabanastre before we left for Bhujerba.

The simple collection of frozen shards strikes the creature’s skin and it bellows out another cry, angrily slashing its sword down toward Ashe. Basch dives out just in time, barely containing enough strength to stand as the flat of his blade meets the flow, his teeth grit and a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.

Roaring, the beast lifts a smaller second pair of hands and folds them together, a wall of fire swirling and billowing out behind him. Penelo looks at a lost, clutching her staff and searching for the right spell to chant out. Ashe raises her shield, though she stands behind two knights. I scan the ceiling, the walls, anywhere to shelter myself from living hell this monster is brewing.

There’s a piercing whistle from the back of the room and suddenly I’m knocked flat on my stomach, unintentionally breathing in mouthfuls of water. Choking, I push myself up above the receding waves and gasp for air. The creature shrieks, swinging its blade. I’m splashed repeatedly as three pairs of feet run past. Swords clang, slash, slice, staining the water red.

I watch Basch pull his sword free from the monster’s throat, watch the beast fall to its knees with gallons of crimson pouring from its orange-furred neck. Sparks erupt from its body and flames engulf its hunched form. Its massive sword clatters to the ground, raising up ripples of shallow water. A blinding flash of white light blanks the room out; I raise my arm with a wince to shield my eyes. Moments later, a fiery red crystal dangles in the air as if suspended by the weakest of skystones. Inside glints a golden emblem resembling the very beast Basch felled.

“Before we celebrate, might I ask who it was that decided it would be best to drown us?” I demand, wringing the water from my hair with a soured expression. Balthier merely smirks. Before I can strangle him, his partner speaks.

“In vainglory they arose, shouting challenges at the gods,” Fran murmurs, stepping up to the front of the group and eyeing the crystal. “But prevail they did not. Their doom was to walk the Mist until time’s end. A legend of the nu mou.” I fight a scoff.  _I know a thing or two about the nu mou, those damned rats._

“My family tells a story of the Dynast-King and an Esper,” Ashe speaks up, resting her chin between her forefinger and thumb. “The story goes that in his youth, the Dynast-King defeated a mighty gigas for which the gods took heed of him. Thereafter, it was ever bound to him in thralldom.” Balthier watches her pace past him, a pirate’s familiar greedy glint in his eyes.

“So all this time it’s been here guarding the Dynast-King’s treasure,” he says, head cocked to the side.

“Not so,” Ashe replies, her voice strong and taking on a nearly  _smug_ edge; Balthier’s face falls immediately and I feel my own heart sinking into the pits of my stomach. “The Esper is the Dynast-King’s treasure.”

“ _That’s_ your treasure?” the sky pirate demands, enraged. Even Fran looks ready to fire an arrow through the princess’s head. Ashe turns to face him, defiant.

“In the Esper we now command rests a power whose worth is beyond any measure.”

“Is that so?” His tone is bitter; I can’t help but feel utterly disappointed.  _What a waste of time._ “Call me old-fashioned, but I was hoping for a treasure whose worth we  _could_ measure.”

“I’d hate to agree with him,” I add, shrugging. “But, well, I do.”

“My apologies,” Ashe bites back. “A simple misunderstanding. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

“No, it won’t,” Balthier grumbles, crossing his arms. I huff, watching the princess push the heavy iron door before her open. “What do we do with this, then?” He motions toward the crystal stiffly.

“Whatever you wish. One of us must choose to behold its power, though,” Ashe replies, staring hard into the new room.

“I’ll do no such thing,” the pirate sniffs, walking past her into the new passageway.

The rest of us follow, each staring at the crystal warily as we pass by. The passage leads to another steep staircase into the dark. A teleportation device glimmers in the center of the next landing; no magick emits from it, so we continue up the next set of stairs, legs burning, stomachs growling, and palms sweating.  _What if there’s treasure in the actual tomb itself?_  A dim glow shines from the top of the stairs. Ashe pushes past, staring up at the blue-gray orb gleaming atop a stone altar. The silence is broken when Basch notices Vossler’s complete change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” he demands. Vossler frowns, pausing before turning to Ashe.

“Your Majesty, we must go.”

Ignoring him, Ashe steps up the broad sandstone stairs leading up to the lustrous alter. Her eyes never leave the shining nethicite. Suddenly, she stops, gasping.

“What…” she whispers. “Rasler…”

Dazed, Vaan stumbles forward, staring at whatever it is that has Ashe’s undivided attention. I frown, glancing at Balthier. He merely shrugs, looking back toward the curious scene. Ashe reaches out a hand and grasps at something invisible, stunned when there’s nothing there. Taking a deep breath, the princess gives a sharp nod, reaching up to twist the silver ring on her finger.

“You will be avenged.”

A bright light shines from her hand and suddenly she holds the Dawn Shard, tracing a finger over the amethyst details striped across its surface. Something feels entirely off; I look up at Balthier to see an unreadable expression on his face, as if he’s debating several courses of action within himself.

“I...” Ashe’s voice trails off and she tries again. “We can leave now. But first, someone must claim the power of—”

“I already have,” Basch interrupts, earning seven stares. “As your protector, Majesty, I deemed it appropriate that the power should be close to you at all times and not…” He shakes his head; I scowl.  _Yeah, we get it. Dirty, good for nothing pirates, huh?_

“Then we leave,” the princess nods, trying to infuse her voice with confidence. It merely trembles with whatever emotion her visions instilled.

We head down the stairs yet again, only to find the teleportation statue gleaming brightly in the dim light of the tomb. Ashe waits for all of us to join the circle around the waystone before pressing her hand to its rough surface and shutting her eyes. A bright flash and half a moment later, the air is fresh and warm. The air of the living, not of the dead.

Laughing, Vaan and Penelo race off into the sand, feeling the hot sun on their skin. Exhaustion strikes me like a runaway chocobo; I yawn, rubbing my face and shaking my damp shirt before stepping into the light.  _At least the heat will dry me off quickly._ Halfway across the empty trail of columns and blood stains and uneven sands, a distinctly deafening whirring echoes through my head. Shadows pass over us and I look up to see an entire legion of massive Imperial ships slowing over our heads.  _Fates above…_

Smaller ships rain down around us, trapping us in a circle of machinery as they land. I sigh, bumping into Basch’s back accidentally. Fran huffs beside me, her ear twitching in clear irritation.  _Here we go again._


	17. Fran and Furious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE ONE CHAPTER UPDATE THIS WEEK. I HAVE PLENTY OF CHAPTERS TO SPARE, BUT I'M CURRENTLY TAKING MY FINAL EXAMS FOR MY FINAL YEAR OF HIGHSCHOOL, SO... I THOUGHT I MIGHT TRY FOR ONCE TO NOT FUDGE MY GRADES UP. I SADLY DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO EDIT TWO. ENOUGH SAID, ONTO THE TRASH!

“Such a tremendous honor to again be graced with your presence, Majesty.” Judge Ghis turns to face us, his silver hair pulled away from his face and out to the sides like a carnival actor’s might be.  _ ** **Clown**** is a fitting name for any dog of House Solidor. _His voice is so obviously mocking, my chest goes tight and my lungs refuse to take in air merely out of pure frustration and disgust. “You left us with such a great dispatch upon our last encounter that I must confess I had begun to worry that we may have given Your Majesty some cause for offense.”

“Such a heartfelt display of remorse,” Ashe bites back, unfazed by his honeyed words. “Now what is it you want?”

“I want you to give me the nethicite.” The Judge takes a step closer, his steel armor clinking and grinding with his every movement.

“The nethicite?” Penelo repeats, clutching Larsa’s blue stone tightly behind her back. The Judge swivels toward her.

“That is a base imitation!” he cries. “We seek Raithwall’s legacy, the ancient relics of the Dynast-King: deifacted nethicite.” His face falls into a smug smile at the silence, his dark eyes turning to Vossler. “Did you not tell them, Captain Azelas?” My jaw clenches and I scowl at the knight to my left, my nails digging into my palms and leaving behind scarlet crescents. Vossler steps forward, Ashe’s eyes sliding shut in exhaustion as he speaks.  _I should have suspected a betrayal from a man so insistent on our actions._

“Majesty, he speaks of the Dawn Shard. That is the nethicite.” Ashe and Basch swivel to face him, rage burning across the latter’s normally calm features.

“Are you mad, Vossler?” Basch demands.

“If we are to save Dalmasca, we must accept the truth,” Vossler counters, scowling at the blonde. “I will fight this profitless battle no more!”

“Captain Azelas has struck a wise bargain,” Ghis continues, head tilting in the most insulting of ways. “In return for the Dawn Shard the Empire will permit Lady Ashe to reclaim her throne and the Kingdom of Dalmasca will be restored. Think on it.” Ghis straightens, his beady eyes falling on mine and staying there; the fists at my sides tighten and my knuckles burn a hot white. “An entire kingdom for a stone. You must admit, ‘tis more than a fair exchange.”

“And when all is said and done, your master will have another pet,” Balthier speaks up sharply, though he keeps his voice as smooth as always. Ghis stares at the pirate in distasteful silence before turning back to the princess.

“Lady Ashe, let us take him for the people of Dalmasca. Your Majesty wallows in indecision on peril of their heads!” He swings his sword outward, stopping just at a glowering, unflinching Balthier’s throat. “And his shall be the first to fall.”

“Well, at least your sword is to the point,” Balthier replies with a scowl. I bite down hard on my cheek, feeling hot blood flow into my mouth before my anger takes over.

“Stop this!” I snap, breaking past Basch and Fran. “Forget him, I’ve your master and half the Empire after my head. Take me as one of your silly  _prices for peace._ ”

“You forget,” Ghis sniffs, smug as ever. “My master is yours. He was before, he is now, and he always will be.” An armored hand shoots upward and clutches my throat just tight enough to cause discomfort. “You’re merely a lost playing card, my dear.”

“Fortunately, I’m no longer one of his chained dogs,” I spit, glaring up into his dull eyes. “I doubt you could say the same for yourself.”

There’s a long pause as tension builds. Finally, just as I prepare to lunge at the Judge and rip him to pieces on my own, Ashe steps forth, holding out the Dawn Shard. I take a breath to protest only to have Ghis grip my throat harder and prevent any words from leaving. He sheathes his sword as I hold my breath, willing myself not to choke.

Moments later, he holds the Shard in the palm of his hand. Ashe winces, tearing her eyes away from the greedy man. Ghis loosens his grip with a final shove; I gasp for air as he steps back, marveling at his newest prey. I catch a glimpse of Balthier glancing both at me and Ashe, the slightest hint of confusion in his eyes.  _Call it a mix of the purest hatred in Hades and the cost of a debt I owe you from Rabanastre._

“To think the relics of the Dynast-King were deifacted nethicite,” the Judge muses. “Doctor Cid will be beside himself.” Balthier’s eyes flash with an unrecognizable reaction and his brows draw together at the mention of the scientist’s name, staring hard at the Judge.

“What did you say?” the sky pirate demands, all tact long gone from his voice. A smile twitches into the corner of Ghis’s lips as he holds the Shard up to the light and watches it glitter.

“Captain Azelas, take them to  _Shiva._  They should have leave to return to Rabanastre soon.”

Three guards accompany us as we turn away. I rub at my neck with a scowl, practically begging Ghis to drag me back to Archades kicking and screaming just so I can get to Vayne sooner. This Resistance is a waste of my time; I may as well turn myself in and have Vayne  _think_ he’s caught me this time… right before I lop his head off before all the Empire. I wonder how  _Emperor Gramis_  would like to watch another one of his precious sons die.

Heavy cuffs are locked around my wrists and we’re forced to walk two by two, Vaan and Penelo, Fran and Basch, me and Balthier, and Vossler and Ashe. I glare at the ground as we pass from one carrier ship to the massive  _Shiva,_ an imperial wonder I might marvel at any other time.

Now, we walk in silence, unable to hear the wonders the princess and her traitor knight utter back and forth. Balthier appears lost in thought, disturbed by something unknown. Perhaps he has ties to Doctor Cid, but… It seems all too unlikely that Balthier would have such relations at all. No, it must be something else. Words that sparked an unwanted memory, perhaps.

We come up close to a massive set of doors when Fran gasps, shuddering. Her slender knees buckle under her, held tightly together as she hunches over, breathless. Her clawed hands clench tightly, head hanging close to her shackles. I frown, looking around the room; we’ve come to a stop, even the guards unsure of what to do for the troubled viera.

“Is she…?” I start, hesitant to ask.

“Fran?” Vaan prods her gently.

“Such heat,” Fran forces, squeezing her eyes shut. “The Mist—it’s burning!” Her legs give in for good and she collapses to the floor. I turn to Balthier only to see him completely lost in his own world, staring hard at the floor with furrowed brows. Finally, a guard breaks past us and stops before the fallen viera.

“You, stand!” he demands. She swings her wrists out sharply, easily sending the man flying across the enclosed space of the bridge.

“Hold her down!”

Nails scraping against the steel floor, Fran hoists a leg up, pressing her heel into the ground and grimacing. Suddenly, she throws her head back and releases a blood-curdling, deafening, bone chilling scream. Filled with a sudden rage, she flies through the air, sending a sharp kick into the face of the remaining guards. Balthier seems to awaken, Penelo nudging him anxiously.

“What’s wrong with her?!”

“I always knew Fran didn’t take well to being tied up,” the pirate replies, taking a key off a fallen body and undoing his shackles. “I just never knew how much.” He turns to Ashe. “How about you?”

“I like Fran’s idea. Let’s get out of here!” Ashe replies, holding up her bound wrists. I huff irritably, watching Fran drag her tired body back to its feet and take a deep breath as I hold up my own cuffs.

“One of these days, you’ll thank me,” Balthier mutters, twisting the key into the lock of my bindings and taking his sweet time. “You tried your best, I’ll give you credit for that, but I’ll have you know I was never fooled. I knew you were mixed with this Imperial ramble somehow.”

“You’ve yet to learn in what ways I  _ruined_ them,” I reply, fighting a smile. He chuckles, shaking his head and pulling the loosened shackles off quickly. His green eyes flicker up to pierce mine.

“Yes, but I will, mark my words.” All banter ceases as Vossler gets to his feet, upholding his sword and shouting with a gruff voice.

“You go no further!” His eyes narrow, overflowing with rage. “Sky pirates! The future of Dalmasca will not be stolen!”

Balthier hurries to check on Fran, resting a hand on her shoulder as she clutches her head. Basch draws his sword and steps forward; I dare to trace a hand along Fran’s arm as she trembles against some unseen force.

“Why do this, Basch? This struggle is futile. You must know where it leads!” Vossler demands, poising his blade. Basch nods.

“I do know. All too well.”

Fran blinks, shaking both touches away from her and drawing her bow. The first arrow shot lodges itself in a chink of Vossler’s armor. Grunting, the captain narrows his eyes. Basch, waves Ashe back; the two stand farther away, unsure of whether or not they want to fight their crazed friend of the past. Eventually, Basch gets his own mighty blows in.

I stumble to the side as a risen guard strikes across my face with the end of his sword. Spitting the blood from my mouth, I block the next strike with the length of my spear and shove him backwards. Impatient as always, I don’t hesitate to drive my weapon clean through his abdomen and kick him off the end.

The crack of Balthier’s gun echoes through the chamber; Fran still seems lost to us, firing arrow after arrow at the captain as if it’s  _his_ fault the Mist is burning her from the inside out. Then again… in a way, it is. He’s the reason Ashe handed the Dawn Shard over—this must have something to do with that nethicite.

Turning my attention toward Vossler, I rush right in and parry his rather quick attack. Vaan dives in while he’s distracted, looking for weak spots and leaping here and there as he tends to do. However, he is not nearly quick enough to miss a slash across the leg. I quickly move to push Vossler back, which is a much easier said than done. The man is a solid wall of steel. Instead of trying to overpower him, I switch my spear around to my other hand and strike the back of his knees to render him unsteady. Penelo sends out a cure spell, the green ball of light drifting through the air an enveloping its target in warm light.

Panting, Vossler hurries to catch his balance. Vaan jumps right back into the fray, flurrying around him. A ball of fire bursts beside the knight’s face and I press my boot firmly into his back, pushing him forward. He stumbles onto his knees, his resolve crumbling as Fran sends a final arrow into his side. Basch pushes the tip of his blade to the captain’s throat, frowning.

Groaning, Fran collapses finally. The ship bursts into alarms of all kinds, blaring critical warnings and shuddering relentlessly. Balthier stoops down and pulls Fran’s arm over his shoulder, supporting her weight.

“She’s going down!” I call, waving for Vaan and Penelo to hurry toward a means of escape.

“Ashe, let’s go,” Balthier calls over his shoulder, pulling Fran along beside him.

The princess watches the two knights wistfully. Basch sheathes his sword, listening as Vossler speaks around the gargle of blood tainting his throat, clutching his pierced side.

“All I have done—I’ve ever thought of Dalmasca first.” He grunts, falling onto all fours with a pained wince.

“I know you do. I would ne’er gainsay your loyalty,” Basch replies, his voice low and level.  _I would._  Huffing, I hurry back to him, skidding to a stop shortly behind him. The others continue, resigned to the idea that we’ll catch up.

“Look on what my haste has wrought. Did I act too quickly? Or was your return too late?”

“I think it better that you didn’t act at all,” I cut in, glowering at the man. “But what’s my word worth? I’m only a sky pirate.” I nod toward Basch sharply. “Think what you want, but don’t blame  _him_ for any of your mistakes, you hear?”

“I know… I know…” Vossler coughs, crimson speckling the floor. “I cannot serve her any longer. You must take up my charge.”

There’s a pause and I take that moment to grip Basch’s tanned arm and tug. He turns on his heels and starts running. Ashe runs just ahead of us. Taking a deep breath, I keep up easily, keeping my eyes locked on the shorter figures of Vaan and Penelo far ahead. In fact, I charge ahead, my boots pounding hard against the floor and the wind whipping my long hair out like a loose rope on a ship’s smallest escape hatch.

Vaan pries open a heavy door once I reach him and we pile into the rather vertically built imperial ship. We flood the rather broad cockpit, scattering and rushing with nerves. Just as Balthier moves to set Fran down and take up the controls, I force him back.

“She’s more important,” I rush, flipping switches and scanning over the board. My mind processes the entire dash like one of Archadia’s fancy new computers. Vaan hurries to my side.

“Can I help?”

“Only touch what I tell you to,” I reply quickly, grabbing a lever and pushing the ship to shoot free from its port on the _Leviathan._ The lurch is less than the  _Strahl’s,_ being a slightly bigger ship, but it’s there all the same. Penelo winces as she stumbles into a wall and I nearly lose my footing, taking half a moment to plop into the seat behind me.

A burst of flames shoots debris and portions of burnt ship through the air behind us, narrowly missing the back of the ship. Fire and matter of all kinds rock the small ship to and fro, my knuckles white from precisely adjusting one lever and my other fingers rapidly adjusting the controls on the board before me.

“Things might get a little dicey!” Balthier calls, watching another ball of fire hurtle past us.

“I know, I know,” I mutter, slapping Vaan’s hand away from a series of buttons. “Vaan, now’s not the time!”

“The Mist. It manifests now,” Fran groans, clutching her stomach. Vaan stares at her incredulously.

“Is that what you call this?!”

Digging my teeth into my lip, I release the lever I held with a vice grip and turn on the next level of speed. In mere moments, we’re free from the flames. Breathing a sigh of relief, I pull the lever back to ease the speed and the pressure on the engines a little. The massive ship that once held us captive is nothing more than a rain of fiery debris.

“What’s that?” Penelo asks, her face pressed to the glass. Ashe turns back, awed.

“I think it’s the Dawn Shard!”

I peer out the window, spotting quite the large globe of rippling scarlet waves of light surrounding a silver orb.  _The Dawn Shard indeed._ Balthier chuckles, raising an eyebrow at me as Fran stumbles to her feet and into a proper chair.

“Then what are we waiting for, pilot?”

“A signal of sorts from Her Majesty,” I reply, sharply increasing the speed and swiveling the ship around. Grinning, I glance back at the mildly irritating pirate. “Though, I suppose that won’t explicitly happen, so I’ll settle for some nagging from our leading man.”


	18. Preparations

“So, it was the Dawn Shard that brought down the Imperial fleet,” Basch muses in a low voice.

“You know your stuff,” Balthier replies dryly, slowly pacing the length of the dusty, dark room.

Ashe leans against a rough wooden table, twisting the silver rings on her slender fingers. Penelo and Fran sit at the table beside her, Basch standing at the head of the rectangular cut of wood. My arms are crossed, my back pressed against the cold stone of the wall as I watch the scene before me unfold. My muscles ache and dark bags mark the skin beneath Vaan’s eyes but Ashe insisted that we head back to Rabanastre to regroup  _immediately._

“Destructive power of such force—I’ve seen it once before,” Basch continues, turning fully to the princess before him. Vaan stretches his arms over his head, falling against the wall beside me with a yawn. “Lady Ashe, you know of what I speak.”

“Nabudis,” Ashe murmurs, settling on the edge of the bench pulled up to the table. Penelo watches them converse with a deep-set interest in her shining eyes. A curiosity blessing those of such youth who’ve yet to know true agony.

“The capital of Old Nabradia—Lord Rasler’s fatherland.”  _And Rasler is her late husband. Together they were to rule the alliance between Nabradia and Dalmasca. What a fiasco this all turned out to be._ I sigh.  _Then again, creating fiascos seems to be Vayne’s specialty._ “At the time of the invasion, a division of Imperial’s entered the city…” Basch takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There was a mighty explosion. Friend and foe alike died. Something was there—one of the Dynast-King’s relics. The Midlight Shard was in Nabradia.” Balthier hums, leaning one arm against a pillar of stone and resting his other hand on his hip. His eyes fall to the floor as he speaks, his voice drained.

“More nethicite. Well, no wonder they invaded.”

“That ridiculous war,” Ashe scoffs, turning the Dawn Shard over in her hands. “The trap at the treaty signing—all this because Vayne wanted power.” I scoff, rolling my eyes.  _That’s all he’s ever after. However, is it not what ** **you’re**** seeking, Lady Ashe? _“He must not be allowed to claim the nethicite. The Empire must never hold it.” She clutches the stone to her chest. Balthier huffs, turning to face her with his arms crossed.

“Oh? They already do.” He cocks his head to the side. “The Dusk Shard, most likely the Midlight Shard, too. Besides,” he continues, his voice growing exponentially bitter. “Can’t they manufact nethicite now?”

“Very well,” Ashe leaps to her feet. “Then the path set before us is clear. We’ll use the Dawn Shard to fight them!” Her voice grows soft, her eyes narrowing. “Dalmasca does not forget kindness, nor ill deed done.” Balthier falls back against the wall, another unreadable expression overtaking his face. “With sword in hand she aids her allies. Sword in hand, she lays rest to her foes. This nethicite I hold must be my sword. I will avenge those who have died. And the Empire… it will know remorse.”

“That was a nice speech, but I don’t see how you plan for seven of us to take down the Empire with a glittering  _rock_ ,” I reply impatiently. She frowns turning to face me and opening her mouth to speak. I cut her off. “Yes, I understand it’s a relic from Raithwall and its power is good and well.” I shrug, refusing to break eye contact. “However, I will have you know that Vayne of House Solidor is far more ruthless than you could ever picture in the bounds of your base fairy-tale imagination.”

“Yes, and  _you_ would know of such things,” she bites back. “Though, I have yet to see you admit yourself fully from your claims to Vayne’s ties.” I huff, rolling my eyes.

“You forget; not all of us can break our bonds and run like the heroic wildlings of our nursery rhymes.” An incredibly sour smile tears across my lips. “Some ties, Princess, cannot ever be undone.” Suspiciously, her eyes narrow and fall to the gleam of light hitting the rings on my fingers.

“The nethicite can break even  _your_ bonds, Shae.” There’s a long pause. Vaan pushes off the wall, head tilted.

“Do you even know how to use it?” The question is innocent, purely curious. Ashe turns to face him, her resolve crumbling.

“I…” she breaks off with a hopeless sigh. Fran’s ears twitch and her head straightens, level with Ashe’s.

“The garif may know.” We all turn to face her, watching as the viera faces forward once more. “The garif people live by the old ways. Magicite lore is a part of their culture. They may hear it. The cry of the nethicite’s power.” She stands, turning to face the princess abruptly. “Whispers of the Stone’s menace.”

Ashe leaps to her feet, brushing by Basch to stand before the towering viera. In her hands, she clutches the shimmering Dawn Shard.

“Dangerous though it may be, what we need now is power.” She comes to a stop before Fran, Balthier watching the princess carefully. I’m careful to keep my eye on him—he’s up to something. “Should we declare Dalmasca free without the means to defend our claim, the Empire would crush us.” Her voice is pleading, her eyes full of desperation. “You must take me to meet with the garif.” Fran eyes her momentarily before speaking.

“They live beyond Ozmone Plain.”

“Not exactly close,” Balthier speaks up, pacing toward Ashe. I feel my muscles go stiff, weary of the man’s intentions.

“Compensation, is that what you want?” Ashe demands. Balthier smiles, his voice morphing into a dangerous purr.

“Straight to point, aren’t we?” He lowers his chin to see the close princess better. “I like that.” He cocks his head to the side, motioning toward Ashe’s hand. “Compensation? How about the ring.” Something flashes in Ashelia’s eyes.

“This?! Isn’t there something else?” Balthier shakes his head, shrugging and holding out a hand.

“No one’s  _forcing_ you.”

Sighing, Ashe reluctantly pulls the glittering silver ring from her finger and watches it glint in the room’s dim light.  _A wedding ring? Come now, Balthier._ I shake my head, tearing my eyes away as she drops the metal band into the sky pirate’s waiting palm. Balthier looks from the ring to the princess’s face and closes his hand around the jewelry.

“I’ll give it back to you—as soon as I find something more valuable.” I fight a smile, shaking my head.  _A guarantee for treasure. I like the sound of that._ Ashe turns away swiftly, pacing the room. Vaan frowns.

“What do you mean ‘something more valuable’?” he asks, approaching the pirate. Balthier shrugs.

“Hard to say. I’ll know when I find it.”

“It’s more of a place holder for any treasure he might find,” I explain, cocking my head to the side. “A bit of a low blow, Balthier, but you do what you must, I suppose.” Balthier scoffs, heading toward the door with everyone else. He pauses, turning to look back at the two of us.

“What is it you want, then? Adventure, riches, something like that?” He shakes his head slightly when I frown. “I’ve got the compensation; treasure goes to me and Fran. Best find a new way to pay your debt.” I scoff, brushing past him to leave the room.

“You keep thinking like that and you’ll wake up having been robbed blind.” I toss a mischievous smile over my shoulder. “Don’t give me more incentive, Balthier. You’d hate to be that poor bastard.” My smile falls as I face forward, tracing the stone walls as I walk, closing my eyes and picturing the smile of Dern. That grin, that laugh, that joy… It’s all motivation enough. Vayne  _will_  pay. Jonan is a trouble for another day.

We gather outside the meeting room, in the midst of busy, bustling Rabanastre streets. I have to huddle close in the circle to hear Basch’s voice, my shoulders pressed to one of Fran’s and one of Penelo’s.

“The garif are said to dwell in Kerwon,” the knight explains. Balthier nods.

“So they do. We’ll need to head south, past the Giza Plains.”

“It is the Rains now in Giza—the wadis will be swollen with the deluge,” Basch points out, blue eyes flickering from face to face. A seeq knocks into my back and I quell the flash of annoyance that presses into my chest. “Passage may be difficult.”

“I know something of the plains,” I reply, raising my voice in order to be heard. “Those waters can be dangerous or they can be a mild annoyance, depending on how well you know that area.”

“Those same waters may also lay open new routes for us,” Balthier adds.

“Regardless, we must go south, yes?” Ashe asks.

“First things first,” Balthier starts, eyeing the princess. “You’re eager to be on your way, I know, but we should see that we’re prepared before setting out.” Ashe shakes her head.

“I made my resolve two years ago. I swore to overcome any hardship I may face.”

“Man cannot live by resolve alone, Princess.”

“It seems  _I’ve_ been doing fine for quite some time,” I retort, flashing a sheepish grin.

“Yes, and you’re some sort of head case I’ve yet to understand,” Balthier mutters.

The conversation ends when Vaan runs out of the building we left behind, knocking into a bangaa. Said bangaa hisses at him in warning and continues on his way. The thief elbows his way between me and Penelo, giving a grin.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Get all you need for the journey now; we’re heading far south through the Giza Plains,” I explain.

“Giza?” Vaan raises an eyebrow, smiling like a fool. “I’ve heard of it. Never been, though.”

“It’s your lucky day, then,” Balthier replies, peering at the crowds over Ashe’s head. “We must be on our way soon.”

“Yes, don’t forget to  _buy_ a few spells if you can afford it,” I wink. Penelo giggles, shaking her head and elbowing Vaan.

“I’m sure  _he’s_ got that under control.”

“Hey!” Vaan protests.

We break apart with a promise of meeting at the South Gate of Rabanastre in half an hour. I head straight for the nearest bazaar stand full of odds and ends. I pull out a small pouch of bits and bobs I collected from monsters in Raithwall’s Tomb and barter for a small pouch of five hundred gil. I cannot help but feel wary as I search the crowds for a familiar head of blonde hair, towering over the rest.

Wary is the right feeling to have; all too soon, I spot the young man wandering the crowd, though he has yet to see me. Curious and beating down the feeling of dread, I follow him carefully, keeping an eye on gleaming fair hair and a pale leather vest. I slip past seeq, hume, and bangaa alike, occasionally spotting a lone viera towering above the crowd. Finally, Jonan turns into an alleyway, glancing over his shoulder twice before turning a final corner. I keep my distance carefully, now far away from the crowds of Rabanastre.

A bangaa with violet scales stands waiting at the end of an alleyway. Jonan greets him with a mutter, silently accepting a green glass bottle and taking a swig. He leans back against the wall, deep blue eyes scanning the bangaa over as he crosses his arms. The young pirate takes another drink before speaking.

“Have you found anything?”

“Not yet,” the bangaa replies in a raspy voice, shaking his head. “She seems to have vanished alongside the main members of the Resistance.”

“Of course she has.”  _Are they talking about me?_ There’s another long pause. “Do you remember why I hired you?”

“To locate the p…”

“Yes, to locate  _her,”_ Jonan replies bitterly. His bottle shatters on the ground as he reaches for his rapier, pressing the slim point into the poor bangaa’s throat. “And you’ve yet to do so. It’s been nearly a week and I’m no closer to finding her. I do believe that’s what they call a  _waste of time and resources_.”

“Wait! I can convince another one of—”

“Too late,” Jonan shrugs. With that, he twists his blade upward through the base of the bangaa’s jaw and up into his skull. The reptilian body before him crumples to the ground. With a grunt of disgust, Jonan flings the blood from his slender blade to the cobblestone. Taking a deep breath, I step away from the shadows.

“Quite the business you run these days, isn’t it?” Jonan starts, lapis colored eyes staring hard at me. “You could have been patient, you know.”

“And who are you to speak of patience?” he scoffs, sheathing his sword and watching me carefully. “Why are you here?” I pull out my bag of gil, waving it tauntingly with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you forgotten? I told you I would pay you  _eventually_.”

“Yes, you did, didn’t you?” He reaches for the bag; I pull it just out of his reach, grinning. “You’re hardly in a position to withhold this from me, Shae.”

“I only need you to listen,” I shake my head, trying to drown out the sound of my heartbeat as he steps closer, eyebrow arched. “I’m leaving to travel through the Giza Plains. Heading south and all. I’m giving you a  _fair_ warning this time—I’ll be  _very_ hard to find.”

“I don’t plan on staying here another night,” Jonan shakes head. “However, I have my ways. I’ll find a way.” I scoff, nodding toward the bleeding body behind him.

“Is that one of them? Your  _ways?_ ”

“Are you going to pay me or should we continue where we left off in the Sand Sea?”

“I suppose I’ll have to decline that offer,” I reply smoothly, pressing the pouch into his chest. He scoffs, taking the bag in one hand and my chin in the other.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll have to wait until I see you again, eh?”

“You’re damn right you will.”

Chuckling, he swiftly leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. Moments later, he’s brushing past, tucking his payment away into his pocket. Shaking my head, a take a deep breath and beg the gods to erase the flush from my cheeks as I hurry out of the alley and toward the South Gate.  _That twisted bastard… Who’s he off to ruin now?_


	19. Giza Plains

“Are we ready to set out?” I ask upon coming across the others at the gate.

“Well yeah, we were waiting on you,” Vaan teases, nudging me with his elbow. I roll my eyes, though I can tell he’s telling the truth. The rest of the group looks terribly impatient. “Ashe was thinking about leaving you behind. Too many sky pirates and all that.”

“Not leaving her  _behind,”_ Ashe corrects. “Merely getting a head start. We’re in a bit of a rush.”

“And to think I offered to guide you through the plains,” I reply dramatically, shaking my head. “Nevermind; I’ll keep quiet if you so wish.”

“Some days I wonder if you’re not a day older than Vaan,” Basch mutters.

Huffing, I push past him and lead the way from the city path to the muddy grasslands of the Giza Plains. The marsh floor is soft, lined with sunbaked grasses and dried skeletons of trees. Rain falls steadily overhead, soaking into every inch of clothing and hair possible. There’s an unfamiliar chill in the air as we continue our trudge through the rainy climate. I offer my insight as we cross narrow bridges and swifter waters. Once Penelo slips and falls face first into a shallow river; twice Basch has to dig his feet free from the mud; thrice I snap at Balthier for being nothing but  _insufferable._

The sun begins to sink after we fight off the fourth pack of wild dogs and the second woolly gator. Even Ashe looks exhausted, and rightly so. We’ve been on the move practically nonstop since we left to find Raithwall’s relic. Fighting a haughty bastard and his father’s empire really takes it out of you. But camping out in the marshes would get us no rest, and so I encourage them to keep moving until we pass the stormy plains. With tired groans, sidelong glances, and attempted jokes, they comply.

There’s not a light to be seen anywhere when we cross from the Giza Plains to the Ozmone Plains. We stumble into the soft, dry grass and take a breath of air that isn’t heavy with moisture. Basch is the first to search for shelter. Ashe holds the Dawn Shard up to the dim moonlight, thinking as she watches it glimmer.

I wander a bit away from the others in search of firewood. It’s not hard to compile a good number of dried logs and set them up on a patch of dirt that Vaan points out. Wanting to be useful, Penelo creates a circle of stones around the logs. Finally, I use a weak fire spell to ignite the pile. A steady fire has grown by the time Basch returns.

“There are no resources nearby to create any sort of shelter,” he announces, scanning our faces from across the hot, leaping flames.

“It’s alright,” Vaan yawns, clasping his fingers behind his head. “I’m too tired to care.”

“Majesty?”

“This place is fine,” Ashe replies, shaking her head. “I’ll just…” She turns around hesitantly, searching for any sort of bed. I laugh, walking past easily and reaching up toward a branch of a towering tree that hangs over our small resting place.

“You’ll have to get dirty eventually, Princess,” I call over my shoulder, pulling myself up and reaching toward the next branch over. It’s much wider, much sturdier. I sprawl out on the rough bark, legs dangling and arms cushioning my head. “Goodnight, you sorry lot.”

“I like that idea,” Vaan laughs, climbing to a branch over my head and leaning against the trunk with his ankles crossed. “Night!”

“Be careful, Vaan!” Penelo calls.

I grin, watching the princess sigh and curl up on the packed dirt next to the fire. Basch sits across the from her, cross-legged with his sword balanced across his knees. Fran and Balthier rest at the base of the tree, weapons just within their reach. Giving a contented sigh, I ignore the wood stabbing my ribcage and close my eyes, easily sucked into a deep sleep.

_Dern grins at me, gripping my sides as I cling to his shoulders, trembling with relentless fear. The ground is a horrific distance away; I don’t even remember how we got here, hanging off the edge of a precipice. At some point, the path crumbled and left us stranded on the most unstable of places. The wind smells like blood and something about the skin under my fingertips feels strangely cold, even under the hot Dalmascan sun._

_“It’s alright,” Dern reassures me, giving a confident nod of his head. “It really is, Shae. We’ve just gotta get across the gap, see?”_

_“We can’t,” I reply sharply, my nails digging into the pale flesh beneath them. ** **Pale… Since when is Dern pale?**** “We can’t, Dern. Just go back.”_

_“I can’t,” he shakes his head. “Hey, calm down. I’ve got you, yeah?”_

_“You can’t help,” I huff, my voice shaking just as much as my body, rattling with each pound of my heart. “You…” I choke on my own words, instinctively pulling him closer. “You can’t do ** **anything****  anymore.” His face falls and he sighs, holding me tight._

_“That’s not entirely true…”_

_“It is.” I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head, feeling the relentless wind tug at my clothes, my hair, my resolve to hang on. “It’s all because of Vayne, Dern. That’s all it is.”_

_“All Vayne?” I look up to see a mocking smile erupt across his lips. A dark, loud laughter bubbles up from his chest, full of spite. “ ** **All**** Vayne, is it?” His smile falls and he lowers his lips to my ear. “And what of your deeds, Shae? Do you not repent?”_

_“Dern,” I plead, staring hard into his deep green eyes. “I did all that I ha—” He silences me with a firm shake of his head._

_“It's about time to jump the gap now, hm?”_

_He tears himself from my grasp, throwing himself down into the endless pit below me. I scream his name, lurching forward to catch him. My efforts are in vain; he’s disappeared for good this time. On all fours, I scrub the bitter tears off my cheeks, watching the last place I saw him._

_The ground beneath my hands splinters underneath my weight, throwing me forward. Desperately, I try to cling to my perch, only to find myself tumbling down into the abyss, my screams silenced by the wind, my breath stolen by the fall, my heart sinking to my toes as I take the plunge._

The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. I lay on the ground wheezing, instinctively clutching my stomach. An involuntary tear traces down the side of my face, my face pinched in pain. Past the pounding in my ears, I hear speaking, laughter, muttering. A light pressure on my back. I gasp for air as the initial shock passes, dragging myself onto my knees. My vision clears; Penelo kneels before me, eyebrows pinched together.

“Shae? Are you alright?”

“I’m doing splendid, thank you,” I force out, wincing at the pain. “What a way to wake up…”

I shake my head, turning to look at all the other pairs of eyes pointed in my direction. Ashe immediately turns away, striking up a conversation with Basch. Vaan grins, coming to sit beside me and his friend. The two sky pirates watch on as if we’re their only source of entertainment out here.

“I was just about to get you up, too,” Vaan says, plopping down beside me in the grass. I nod, absently looking up at the branch I fell from. Shuddering, I block out the images from my dreams and force myself to my feet, ignoring the pain rippling through my body.

“When are we setting out?” I ask, tugging on the end of my loosely braided hair. Ashe turns to face me, eyeing the bright blue skyline littered with wildlife and waves of brilliant green grass. A hare hops through the weeds and past our dead fire.

“As soon as possible,” the princess replies, standing and tucking the Dawn Shard away. “If we’re prepared, we can leave now.”

“I don’t see the point in sticking around,” I shrug, stretching my left arm. The armor covering my skin clinks and grinds when I flex my fingers; all this fighting has dented the covering far more than I’d prefer. My stomach growls and Vaan laughs. “I’m a bit hungry,” I admit sheepishly.

“Here.” Penelo gets to her feet, stooping down beside Fran and returning with a glistening red apple. “It’s what the rest of us had, anyway. You’re lucky Fran made Balthier stop eating them.” I shoot a look at the sky pirate as I take the apple, taking a big bite of the juicy fruit.

“I told you, I enjoy the pleasantry of good food.”

“I guarantee you found these on the ground, infested with writhing worms,” I fire back, raising an eyebrow. He allows a slight smile.

“One cannot be too picky out here.”

“Let’s not start the arguing just yet,” Ashe says quickly, nodding toward the horizon. “The garif are in the south, yes? Lead the way then.”

“Bossy already,” I mutter, taking another bite of my apple and using the sun to gauge our location before continuing. “You know, I said I know the way through the marshes. This place is entirely new to me.”

“You seem to be doing well enough.”

“You’re talking to the girl who just fell out of a tree,” Vaan reminds the princess, giving me a lazy smile when I scowl at him.

“The girl who just fell out of a tree might just lead you to the pits of Hades if you’re not careful.”

“Ooo,  _scary.”_


	20. Jahara

The ground shifts from green grasses to gritty sands marked with countless footprints leading up to a long wooden bridge. Before the bridge stands a coop of chocobos and two of the garif people. Their faces are obscured with bird-like masks, bodies covered in colorful tribal clothing, fitted and ornate. Vaan rushes ahead, skidding to a stop when one of the guards blocks his path.

“Who are you? This is garif land. No place for hume-children to play at games.” His accent is thick, his voice deep. Another garif comes up behind us, passing by to approach to guard.

“They are wayfarers. They bring no harm.” He comes to stop just in front of me, the massive horns spanning the top of his head obscuring my view. “I saw them cross the Ozmone Plain. They are warriors of great distinction. The fiends of the plains troubled them not at all.” 

“You ventured upon the plains alone, War-chief? Again?”  _Chief, huh?_ The chief turns to Vaan.

“What business have you with the garif?” Vaan glances nervously toward Ashe, opening his mouth to speak. The chief cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Let them pass. The responsibility will be mine.”

“If it is your wish, War-chief,” the guard replies, stepping aside to clear the bridge. “Then you may pass. These days see many humes wandering through our lands.”

“I have not made introductions,” the chief calls out as we follow him. I scan the village, noticing the sharp peaks of burlap tents and the smoke of dozens of bonfires. “I am Supinelu, War-chief of this village. We garif have been friends to all since long ago; however, lately the hume world is in much turmoil. We must protect our village, and our people.” He looks over our entire group of seven. “As War-chief, and protector of our village, I ask you: why have you come to this land?”

“We need to talk to someone about some nethicite,” Vaan explains as simply as he can.

“Hmm… I see. So you too have come to ask about the nethicite. You must speak with the elders. Though our masks may make it difficult for you to tell us apart, walk through the village and look with your eyes, listen with your ears. This will show you the way.”

With that, he turns on his heels and leaves us on our own. Sighing, I turn to Ashe and cross my arms, waiting. I’m used to following someone’s lead, of course, with Dern. However, this near absolute rule… it may just be for someone who’s  _not_ me. Then again, I don’t care about the politics of the world at all. For all I care, Archades could overtake everything. As long as I find my treasure and Vayne Solidor dies, I’ll be fairly well off.

“We’ll do as he says,” Ashe nods, looking around the gentle slopes of the desert camp. “Why don’t we split off and learn what we can?”

“Excuse me,” I pipe up, Fran watching closely as I step forward, extending an arm dramatically toward the village. “But if I know anything about these types, the man with which we wish to speak is at the very top of the tallest peak, overlooking all of the village.”

“How do you know?”

“Seems logical, does it not?” I raise an eyebrow, dropping my arm back to my side. “What’ve I done to mislead you so far,  _Dearest?_ ” Ashe frowns, walking past me irritably.

“You associate yourself with Vayne of House Solidor. I would be wise to avoid trust in you.”

“You had me lead you here,” I point out.

“You stayed in front so I could keep my eye on you. If you were leading us into a trap, I’m sure Fran would let us know.”

I scowl at her back, watching the others walk past. Balthier’s smug smile nearly makes me drive my spear through his smirking face. Instead, I turn away from the evening sun and trail behind them slowly. The garif watch as we pass, curious but accustomed to visitors. We’re stopped yet again at the next bridge.

“You have not yet learned what you must?” The War-chief says, earning the gazes of the bridge guards. “Yes… it is true. The Great-chief may know something that would aid you. Yet arranging an audience may be quite difficult.” Ashe shakes her head, stepping forth.

“I must learn more about the nethicite,” she protests. “I cannot turn back now. Please, tell your Great-chief that I am of the royal line of Dalmasca, a direct descendant of the Dynast-King Raithwall.”  _We might as well scream it to the skies. Vayne may just come pick her off for me._ “If the garif have passed down knowledge of the Stones, they must know of the nethicite that the Dynast-King once held.”

“Do you have  _proof_ of your heritage?” the chief asks with no hesitation.

“I…” Ashe’s face falls. “I do not.”

“Hm…” The War-chief shakes his head. “I have looked into your eyes and seen that you speak the truth, hume-child. I give you my trust. The Great-chief is ahead, across this bridge.”

The guards clear the path and suddenly we can see the towering, ornate tents of the chief in the distance. I hide a smile.  _Right all along, wasn’t I?_ We follow the path upward, keeping close as even more garif elders and chiefs eye us. Vaan’s arm brushes mine; ignore the closeness and draw even tighter to this group. Something about this place… It reminds me of Mount Bur-Omisace. It makes me sick. The touch of the present is a welcome passage out of the past.

We draw close to the tent, two guards parting the way for us. Surrounded by a rough, tall wooden fence built of tree trunks, the tent towers high above the rest. The Great-chief waits for us, his adornments much paler than those of the rest of the garif, no doubt to reveal his age. His mask is light blue, and when he turns to us, its smooth surface reflects the golden light of the evening sun.

“I am Ashelia B’nargin of Dalmasca,” Ashe says calmly, bowing. “I have come to you that you may provide us with answers about this nethicite—a relic of the Dynast-King known as the Dawn Shard.”

“Give it here,” the chief replies, stretching out a pale hand. His nails are navy blue, pointed like claws. I keep my distance across the fire warily. The chief takes the Dawn Shard into his hand, turning the silver and amethyst orb over in his palms. “This nethicite—you have used it.”

“It was not I who used it,” Ashe shakes her head, her hands clutching each other tightly. “Indeed I had hopes you could show me how. Thus I’ve come.”

“Hm…” The garif glances up at her, his voice full of disappointment. “You do not know the workings of the Stone. Then we are no different.”  _A worthless venture?_

“What?”

“In ages past, the gods made a gift of nethicite to my people. But the manner of its use eluded us. Displeased by our failure, the gods took back their Stones. They chose instead to give them to a hume king. Called the Dynast-King, he used the nethicite’s power to bring peace to a troubled time. It is a curious thing. Though the blood of King Raithwall flow through your veins, you cannot wield nethicite.”

“Cannot wield it?” Ashe repeats, bewildered. “So then, am I to understand you can’t tell me how to use the Stone?”  _That ** **is**** what he said, isn’t it?_

“Though it shame me so to admit. Here before me stands a descendant of the Dynast-King himself… and I can accord her no help at all.” He stares down at the nethicite in his hand. “Still, even if you knew how to use the nethicite, you would find it of small avail.” He hands it back over to Ashe. “The Mist collected in the Stone over ages past is lost, and with it the Stone’s power.”  _That’s why Fran was in such pain on the ship… They were doing something to test the Stone’s power._

“It will be your posterity who wield the Stone in ages yet to come.” Ashe’s face falls and she stares wistfully at the Dawn Shard. The garif chief shakes his head. “This Stone is devoid of power. Empty, yet full of thirst. A terrible longing to drink the world dry. The power of men and of magick. Of good, and of evil. It is often those who desire nethicite whom the nethicite itself desires.”

The sound of footsteps in the sand shakes us from our disappointed stupor. I turn to face the entrance of the fence to the Great-chief’s tent, my heart skipping a beat. Larsa stands before us, neat and pristine as ever, with his sword close to his side and a smile pressed onto his fair face.

“Larsa?” Penelo speaks, bewildered, her face lighting up. Vaan groans, rolling his eyes.

~|~|~|~|~

_“I beg your pardon, but I must speak with you all immediately.”_

_“Go, then,” the chief nods, motioning for us to leave his presence. We filter out of the small area, watching the boy pace the sands._

_“Lady Ashe, I urge you: take you leave for Bur-Omisace as soon as you can.”_

_“Mount Bur-Omisace?” Ashe repeats. A wave of nausea washes over me at the mere mention of that wretched haven's name._

_“Yes,” Larsa nods. “I was going to wait for my escort to return, but meeting you here has presented a great opportunity.” He paces straight up to Ashe, tilting his head back to look up at her. His familiar accent is music to my ears. Balthier watches him warily, thumbs tucked in his belt loops as always. “This terrible war can be stopped, but I will need your help to do so.”_

_“A war?” Ashe nearly whispers._

_“You know the Marquis Ondore leads a group of insurgents—your pardon, he leads a large resistance against the Empire. Lady Ashe, neither of our countries can afford this now. The Rozzarian Empire would stir. They would aid the Resistance and use this aid as a pretext to declare war on Archadia, and Archadia would have no choice but to answer.”_

_“And from there it would all come tumbling down,” I muse absent mindedly, arms crossed and eyes locked on the sand. Politics truly are very messy. Larsa nods, looking earnestly at the princess._

_“Lady Ashe, let us go to Bur-Omisace. With the blessing of His Grace the Gran Kiltias Anastasis you may rightly wear your crown, and declare the restoration of the Kingdom of Dalmasca. As queen, you can call for peace between the Empire and Dalmasca and stop Marquis Ondore.” ** **He really does have all this plotted out****. I fight a smile. He’s always had it figured out, the snotty brat. Ashe’s eyes flash with sudden anger._

_“For peace?!” she demands. “How dare you say that! The Empire attacked us, stole all we hold dead and you would have me save them from war?”_

_“Dalmasca would be the battlefield!” Larsa protests. “What if nethicite were used on Rabanastre? You know my brother would do this!” Ashe’s eyes fall to the ground, Larsa sighing. “Forgive me, I presumed overmuch. I could think of no other way to avoid bloodshed. If you cannot trust me, then please, take me as your hostage._

I roll off my mat and leave the tent as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Penelo or Basch. The sand is welcome under my boots and the night breeze is as sweet as any treat from an Archadian bakery. Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the edge of the lower level of tents, leaning against the wooden stakes tied to make a simple railing. The moon and the glow of a dying fire are my only sources of light. It’s enough. I know who it is that approaches before I look.

“I see you stayed with them.”

“Are you surprised?” I ask, turning my eyes to the glittering stars overhead.

“Yes, actually.” Larsa comes and leans against the rail beside me, turning his youthful face upward to smile at me. “You  _do_ have a tendency to run.”

“It’s an enjoyable pastime,” I shrug, looking down into the valleys below. “Do you… really think Ashe will accept your offer?”

“I can only hope,” Larsa sighs. “I only wish I knew more convicting words.”

“You did just fine,” I laugh reaching a hand out to ruffle his dark his hair. “She’ll have to reconsider it, the way you presented it all.”

“It’s an honest depiction,” he shakes his head. “You know Vayne would do such a thing.”

“I know,” I mutter, turning away from the boy. There’s a long silence before Larsa speaks tentatively.

“It seems much less of a coincidence now that the Fates pushed us together once more in these times, Sister.” I cringe at the title, wanting so desperately to keep the past buried in the garbage heap I left it in. “With all the running you do, I feared I might never see you again.”

“I would never do that to you,” I reply sharply, shaking my head. “You think I could leave you alone with Vayne for all that long?”

“But you did.” His words are not accusing but matter-of-fact, innocent. “I have seen far less horror than you, ‘tis true, but some things I have witnessed from our dear brother at this point…” Larsa shakes his head. “I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last a lifetime.”

“Your loyalties still lie with him?”

“My loyalties lie with Arcadia. I care deeply for him, yes, but his careless actions are beginning to create a chaos Ivalice simply cannot bear.”

“ _Beginning_ ,” I repeat with a bitter laugh. “Larsa, he’s been doing this since—”

“Since Gregor and Beldroth, I know,” he cuts me off. “They were the dearest of our brothers to you and Vayne cut them down for power. I know the story well. You told it all the time, swore your revenge as a bedtime lullaby.” He takes hold of my wrist. “Shera, I beg of you, don’t leave the side of Lady Ashe until this has been seen through. Be my advocate when I’m taken back.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Promise me that you’ll  _try._ ” I don’t say anything and he squeezes my hand, his voice falling into a boyish and pleading tone that he rarely slips into. “Father would want to see his only daughter again soon, don’t you think?”

“I’m not going back.”

“He never did you any wrong!”

“He lets Vayne run rampant and hammer complete insanity into the world,” I snap, wrenching my hand free. “I apologize, Larsa, but you cannot keep  _hoping_ we’ll be a big, happy family someday. I won’t return, not ever. The only reason I still  _breathe_ is to end Vayne; admitting he’s my own brother doesn’t  _shame_  me, it tears an untamable bloodlust into my chest that I can’t resist.” I shake my head, taking a deep breath. “It’d be best if you continued to pretend I’m nothing but an associate to you.”

“Of course,” Larsa replies, his voice weaker than before. Sighing, I step forward and wrap my arms around the boy, clutching him to my chest.  _One of the only people I have left… I can’t push him out now._

“I worry for you, you know. Get some rest, Larsa.”

“I’ll do my best,” he nods, pulling away to smile up at me. “Goodnight, Shera.”

“It’s Shae, remember?”

“Sometimes, I prefer the princess over the pirate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UnShaekable Playlist up now on Spotify because I have nothing better to do than game, write and listen to music.  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/autumn.tencate/playlist/5PV2X2XretfQiEwDniOzdb?si=MIJ26n4JQ7q6rPLpVbe82A


	21. "Friends"

_~12 years before~_

_I wring the water from the ragged rough-spun dress in my small, pale hands. Sighing, I sit back on the heels of my tight wooden shoes and peek up at the round old woman hobbling around the laundry room._

_"Fraun, my hands hurt."_

_"Finish up that basket and we'll balm them," the woman replies with a gruff voice, glancing at me with a gentle, sad smile. "We don't want to risk a punishment, now do we?"_

_"I suppose not," I reply softly, flexing my raw fingers. My skin is dry, cracked, stinging. Tiny hands never meant for the labor of servanthood. Rosa tells me my blood keeps me from being the best laborer I can be. Whatever that means. "Rosa, are you done hanging the sheets yet?"_

_A slim girl of sixteen peers out from behind a damp, dangling sheet pinned to a clothesline. A smile plays on her rosy lips and her blue eyes sparkle as she shakes her head._

_"Unfortunately not, Shera. You'll have to complete your duties on your own today."_

_"But...!" Pouting, I drop the dress back into the soapy water, biting down hard on my lip when the water stings my cuts. I jump with a small cry of surprise when the door flings open and a guard marches into the room._

_"It's time, Fraun," comes a man's voice, muffled by the thick helmet over his face. "The emperor has requested to see her."_

_"Now?" The old woman turns and stares at me. Frowning, I stand, my heart hammering in my chest. **The emperor? What does he want?**  "Dearest, come," Fraun calls, motioning me to her side. I obey, wrapping my thin arms around her broad waist. "We'll be waiting should you need us."_

_"What's happening?" I ask, fear overcoming me as the guard reaches out toward me impatiently._

_"It'll be alright," Rosa reassures me, prying me from Fraun's side and nudging me away. "I promise."_

_Shuddering, I take the guard's hand and let him drag me from the room. His steps are long and fast, and I nearly have to run to keep up. Servants and noble people and Judges alike hardly spare me as glance as I hurry past, careful not to bump anyone. We come to a stop before two broad doors I never dared to pass, warned by the others to stay away. The guard stoops down, resting one armored hand on my shoulder._

_"Be on your best behavior. Emperor Gramis is not known for his kindness."_

_With that, he pushes the door open and shoves me into the wide room before shutting me in like a caged rodent. The floor is wide, lined with decorative carpets and broad windows. Straight ahead sits a man with hair as white as the clouds, a glittering crown resting on top. The ruler stands, eyeing me as curiously as I eye him. Slowly but steadily, he walks toward me, adorned with robes twice his size and jewelry ten times my life's worth. Heart hammering in my chest, I throw myself on all fours, bowing as low as I can for fear of breathing my last breaths in this very room._

_"Arise, my child. Do not fear me."_

_I squeak when a cool hand rests on my back, another pushing me to my rather unimpressive height. The emperor himself kneels before me, his pale blue eyes looking over me cautiously. His face is pressed with the hard lines of difficult decisions and hardships aplenty. A slight smile tugs at his lips and he rests one wrinkled hand on my head._

_"You resemble your mother so clearly," he murmurs. "In the highest reaches of power, there are many secrets. One is to be revealed to you today. Tell me, child, what is your name?"_

_"Shera," I reply meekly, watching a single white eyebrow raise sharply._

_"Is that all?" Scared, I shrug, biting hard into my lip. He shakes his head. "No, it is not. My dear, your name is Shera Castean Solidor."_

_"Solidor...?" I frown, watching as he nods, looking past me when the doors open and shut. I don't dare look back, frozen in place._

_"Yes, Solidor. And these, Shera, are your elder brothers."_

_I finally turn to see three tall boys standing behind me, all with matching dark locks and light eyes full of fiery passion for their home. The shortest, who I also assume to be the youngest of the three, offers a gentle smile that calms my nerves the slightest bit._

_"Here we have Vayne, Gregor, and Beldroth. The fourth, Larsa, is hardly four days old." The emperor rises, towering over his sons easily. "I have no doubt the five of you will stand together until your dying breaths."_

_"Majesty," I interrupt, looking over the faces of my supposed brothers anxiously. The words feel foreign on my tongue. "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't understand. I'm eight years old. Why am I to be introduced as your daughter **now**?"_

_"An illegitimate child makes a bad name for a ruler," the boy named Gregor replies, tilting his head to the side. "Our mother passed giving life to Larsa. It is not uncustomary for a princess to be introduced to the public years past her birth anyway."_

_"Enough questions," the emperor, my **father** , objects, motioning for silence. "I see you have many more, Shera. I request that you all head to another hall to discuss this. I have a counsil to attend with the Senate."_

_"Of course," Vayne replies, giving a slight bow before nodding for me to join his side. "What must I explain, Shera?"_

"I will accompany you to Mount Bur-Omisace."

"I had hoped you'd say yes. I'm glad," Larsa replies, a gentle smile forming over his pale lips.

"My heart is not set. I still have questions," Ashe reminds him. "I hope to find answers along the way."

"I had other reason to invite you."  _Of course he did. This boy never gives up._ "There is someone I'd like you to meet waiting on Bur-Omisace."

"Who is that?"

"An enemy, and an ally also.  _You_ will just have to wait and see for yourself."

"You  _do_  love your surprises," I scoff, earning a smile from my younger brother.

"He loves his secrets," Vaan corrects under his breath as the prince walks away. Ashe agrees with a light laugh.

"He does not mean ill by it."

"He's not bad. At least for an Imperial."

"He can't exactly help the side he was born on," I point out. Vaan grins, shrugs, and starts down the wooden bridge out of the village. My stomach stirs and I swallow the anxiety building in my chest.  _Mount Bur-Omisace. I left four years ago and now I make my return._ I take a deep breath of the fresh morning air, shutting my eyes.  _Fates, please let that wrinkled old nu mou be buried six feet under by now._

"I've heard of wishing upon stars, but never of wishing upon the sun," comes a smooth voice. I sigh, rolling my eyes before turning to face the sky pirate behind me. "You truly are a peculiar one."

"It's an uncommon practice, but it works just as well," I reply dryly. He's as smug as ever, cocking his head in mock intrigue and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh? And just what were you wishing for?"

"Aren't you supposed to keep wishes to yourself?"

"I thought perhaps this sun-wishing ritual might be a bit different." I scoff, pushing off the post of the bridge and starting down with Balthier close behind.

"I'll have you know I wished twice. The first is a secret. The second time, I begged for you to be struck down with lightning."

"A bit harsh, don't you think? After all I've done for you?"

"All you've done has been for  _treasure,_ my most irritating accomplice," I sneer, tossing a sly smile over my shoulder. "Lightning is just enough to give you that last joyful, jolting dance before you fall for good."

"Ah, so you'd like to see me dance." I scoff, shaking my head.

"I'd rather be beheaded at the foot of Vayne Carudas Solidor than to witness that atrocity."

"I'm rather hurt, you know."

"Good." We step into the sand, pinched off from Vaan, Ashe, and Penelo as we wait for everyone else to join us at the exit of Jahara.

"But to go back to your previous statement: I find it quite inciteful of you to relay my plans to me after I've stated them clearly on my own. Quite genius indeed." I cross my eyes, facing away from him pointedly. Now he steps in front of me to block my view of the bickering teenagers across the sands, towering over me all too easily with the stupidly smug smile on his face. "And what are your intentions, exactly?"

"Escape," I shrug, turning my eyes toward his finally.

"Jonan."

"Everything."

"And that would require  _death,_ I'm afraid." I groan, snapping my fingers and cursing dramatically.

"I've been discovered! You're right, Balthier. This is all my honorable quest for a good  _end_  to my story."

"I could do so easily this very moment—if you so wish," he replies smoothly, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes. But I said I wanted a  _good_ end," I remind him, my lips cocking into a lopsided smile. "And to bite a filthy bullet of yours... Why, I'd rather not die from a bruise poisoned with all that rust."

"Aren't you flattering," he mutters, glancing toward Vaan with a curious look in his green eyes. "It's a wonder Jonan holds such alternatives over your head."

"That's what I thought too, at the start." I shrug, my eyes scanning the golden desert sand. "But... Incompetent men will be incompetent men, and beautiful women will be beautiful women." I smile, starting toward Vaan and tossing my words over my shoulder. "I'm sure  _you_ know something of that. Or should I ask Fran?"

Not waiting to see his undoubtedly well-covered reaction, I face Vaan and scan the skyline. The morning light glows on the horizon and the slightest chill permeates my clothes from the recovering night air. Fran comes to cross the bridge, heading toward Balthier with Basch trailing behind her. I join the knight's side with a cheerful greeting only find myself led back to the sky pirates. Sighing, I follow anyway, standing at Basch's side with my arms crossed loosely and a hip cast out to the side.

"Only Mount Bur-Omisace stands at the northern end of the Jagd Ramooda," the blonde muses, his voice as deep and smooth as always. I study every glint on Fran's armor as I listen, appreciating the soldier's expansive knowledge of the geography of Ivalice. "Once we're in jagd, we need not fear pursuit by their airships."

"Don't get your hopes up," Balthier replies easily, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops and turning on his heels, heading toward the sandy ledge to the left of Ashe's small group. We follow, Fran keeping her distance and merely watching through passive crimson eyes. "You'll remember the  _Leviathan_ sailed straight over the Jagd Yensa, right up to Raithwall's Tomb. Skystone that works even in jagd. I recall Shae mentioning a partner who crafted the stuff." Green eyes as vibrant as the rolling grassy hills behind me flash toward the dull golden brown of mine. "Did he work with the empire?"

"If only," I scoff, shaking my head and gently tapping the armor covering my left arm. "Might've saved us some trouble if we had no troubles with the imperials."

"You know nethicite's behind it," he replies dryly, turning his eyes back toward the desert. Something about him and his opinions about nethicite rub me the wrong way as if he's hiding something. I shake my head.  _Aren't we all?_ "Little wonder they're so keen on the stuff."

"And what is it you're after, Balthier?" Basch asks, stepping closer to the pirate's side. Balthier's steady expression melts away into an absent frown and he stares at the sky as if he can't hear the knight. "You're a welcome hand, and a great aid, but why?"

"Worried I'm out to steal nethicite, eh?" Balthier replies, his voice taking on the slightest edge. "Can't say I'm unaccustomed to people doubting my intentions." He pauses, still refusing to look at Basch. "... Nothing could be further from my mind. Shall I swear by your sword or some such?" he asks sarcastically, dusting off his sleeves.

"Apologies. But I needed to know where you stand. Her Majesty depends on you, and you seemed to have an interest in the Stone." Balthier finally turns to face him, though I find his eyes on me, an actor scanning his audience to see how well he performs his act. I must not look satisfied. His lips cock up into a teasing smile and he shrugs.

"I'm only here to see how the story unfolds; Shae appears to be here for the same. Any self-respecting leading man would do the same."

With that, he turns and heads toward Ashe and the others that wait for us. Fran moves to follow, her long legs taking fewer steps and longer strides through the sand. Basch sighs, looking down at me with those gentle blue eyes.

"Is he correct?"

"It's what I've been telling him," I mutter, shrugging. "But... I'm here for a lot of things. Escape, revenge, treasure, all that."

"No loyalties to Her Majesty?"

"I..." My voice trails off as I turn to glance at her. "I support her in her decision to take down Vayne. That's why I'm here—to rip that wretch to pieces."

"I see."

"On the contrary," I sigh, turning away from the disappointed knight, "I do believe you've grown blind." Vaan practically tackles me by the time I reach the others, grinning ear to ear.

"Shae! They're letting us use the chocobos for free!"

"Indeed they are, and you  _will_ take care of them," Ashe replies, warning clear in her voice. "Though," she adds with a sigh, "we may have to double up. We can't take all their flock for ourselves."

"I have no objections to the prospect, Lady Ashe," Larsa replies, stepping up from behind to join the group. Penelo laughs, taking hold of his hand.

"Larsa and I can go together," she offers, eliciting a smile from my younger brother.

"Yes, I have no objections to that either."

"Can I ride with Balthier?" Vaan begs, turning to face the sky pirate. "C'mon, you can't always go with Fran."

"Ah, but I can," Balthier replies smoothly, lips turning up into a mischievous smile. "Are we free to mount when we're prepared to leave?"

"Yes, gather at the edge of the grass just over there," Ashe nods, motioning toward the expanse of the plains that opens up outside the entrance to the garif village. Basch steps forth and takes hold of a chocobo's reins, offering them to Ashe.

"Your Majesty should ride your own," he says meekly, bowing his head. Ashe comes close to rolling her eyes, I can sense it. Not very gently, she pulls the lead from the knight's hands and raises a stubborn eyebrow.

"And who should keep me from falling and breaking my neck should I lose control?" Basch glances at her, clearing his throat and backing away to give the princess space. Smiling, I follow Vaan into the pen where he saddles a chocobo next to Fran and Balthier.

"Looks like I'm to ride with you," I muse, crossing my arms and looking up at the tanned boy. He grins, his gray eyes gleaming.

"I guess it could've been worse. I might've gotten stuck with  _Lamont._ "

"I'd hold your tongue," Balthier warns lightly, smiling. "She and the boy are quite good friends."

"I wouldn't say  _friends_ ," I scoff, peering over the chocobo's golden feathers.

"You lie far too often," the pirate counters, pulling himself up onto the bird's back. Fran hops on behind him, eyeing me with amusement. "You look at each other far too easily to be less than  _that_."

"I'd call it good terms," I shrug, climbing on behind Vaan and carefully wrapping my arms around his bare middle. I can't say I'm disappointed; the boy's far too well muscled for his age. Vaan gives a nervous laugh when I rest my chin on his shoulder, tugging on the reins to the chocobo.

"I don't really know how to control this thing," he admits.

"Just give her a little push," I reply, shutting my eyes. He tugs the reins; the bird rears its head; I yelp; I cling to Vaan; I bite his shoulder. Balthier takes a small bag of gil from Fran, chuckling when the thief squeals.

"Ow! Shae!"

"A most entertaining show," Balthier comments, tucking the betted gil into a pouch on his leg. "But I'm afraid we must be on our way."

"Yeah, yeah," Vaan huffs, guiding the chocobo out of the pen and carefully pulling her to a stop beside the others'.

"Are we prepared to head out?" Basch asks as we join them, sitting tall behind Ashe, though he looks as if he could slide off at any moment. "We first must travel through the Golmore Jungle before we reach the mountain."

"I suppose we're as prepared as we'll ever be," Larsa replies, smiling over the top of his chocobo's head. "Shall we, Lady Ashe?"


	22. Runaway Royalty

~6 years before~

“Where’s Gregor?!” I demand, shoving Vayne’s pale hands away from my shoulders. Hot tears burn scorching trails down my cheeks, dripping from my trembling chin to the gleaming floor. “He and Beldroth should be back by now!” Vayne sighs, shaking his head.

“Shera, you know not of-"

“I don’t care!” I scream, ignoring the stares of servants peeking around doorways to watch the royal siblings fight. “What did you  _do_?!”

“Come now,” Vayne replies earnestly, bowing lower to rest his cold fingers on my shoulders. “Let us speak somewhere else.”

“Why?” I demand, glaring up at him spitefully. “You don’t want to admit to your crimes in front of the slaves you keep? They cannot possibly understand your hellish sins.”

“Shera,” he says firmly, dark hair swishing over his shoulder as he shakes his head. “There are none to confess. Be civil about this.”

“Civil,” I repeat with a cackle before pressing my hands firmly to his chest, shoving him backward. “Get off me.”

I wrap my arms around myself tightly as we walk toward the broad doors to Vayne’s bedroom after scrubbing the salty tears from my skin. I knew something was wrong when Vayne began to whisper to Father, to make him frown and stare out the window pensively for hours on end. And now… Gregor and Beldroth have gone missing, my two eldest brothers with sparkling blue eyes and bold laughs and benevolent spirits. The worst part? Vayne made me join his games without telling me.

“Better to speak in private,” Vayne murmurs, shutting the tall, golden doors behind him.

“What have you done?” I demand, turning on my heels to scowl up at him. “I know you convinced Gramis of something, and now they’re gone. You tricked me.”

“There was no convincing to be done,” Vayne replies smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing toward his bed. He strokes his fingers across the smooth, forest green sheets gently, eyes narrowed with deep thought. “I merely opened his eyes. Saved his life, even.”

“You tricked me,” I repeat tightly, blinking the bitter tears from my eyes and letting them shamelessly slide down my face. “How can you feel no remorse for such ruthless bloodshed?”

“Sister, do you understand what they were planning?” he asks sharply. I frown, watching as he spares me a glance over his shoulder, eyes falling to the smooth floor. “For fear of his life and of the prosperity of his people, Father ordered that I kill our elder brothers. Yes, I will admit it. Perhaps I even did it gladly, removing that smug smile from Beldroth’s lips through your unwilling hand. However, the true reason has yet to be revealed to you and so you are hurt.” He turns slowly, settling on the edge of his bed. His eyes are fixated on me earnestly now, sharp and sly though they may be. “My dear Shera, they were leading a ploy to overtake the power of the throne for themselves. I, too, found it hard to believe, but evidence I simply cannot share with you points to a charge none other than treason.”

I choke on a shudder than racks up my spine, my fingernails pressing perfect crescents into my palms. He’s a liar. He’s a manipulator. He’s… He’s a goddamn  _snake._  Vayne… the man who put me in that defensive unit. The man who ordered me to blow that district up— _it was only full of ** **supplies****. _ The man who smooth-talked to drown out the screams. The very same man who fooled me into slaughtering my own brothers begs me to trust him. Vayne, with brows furrowed and head tilted, sighs.

“I can see you doubt, and trust me when I say it breaks my heart. In times of anarchy, things such as turning against your brother are far too common. You and Larsa, however…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. In his eyes shines the most hume response to distress I have yet to see from him. “I would never turn on either of you. I firmly believe you both have far too much sense to betray our father and our nation.”

“How can you expect me to be fine?” I ask weakly, stiffly clutching my arms to my body as if I’m subconsciously afraid he’ll drive his sword through me. “I trusted you to be the sensible one, the one who at least understood the value of life. But now you’ve gone and thrown two away without remorse. You  _lied_  to me. How can I trust you?”

“What is it you do every evening?” Vayne challenges, raising an eyebrow. “Train. It is not for fun,  _child_. You train to fight. You fight to kill. It is a very unfortunate circumstance that comes both with life and your position. You say I know nothing about the value of life and yet you do not bother to understand the purpose of the things you yourself do. Look before you shoot, Shera.”

“I never asked for this position,” I snap, my short brunette hair brushing my shoulders as I shake my head firmly. “If I could run away from it, I would. Unfortunately for you, brother, I am no fool. I may be far younger than you, but I understand how to think. Your manipulation fails to convince me. I know now that you uphold no policy of mercy.” I glare at him pointedly, reaching for the door. “I know you only turned Father’s eyes to the darkness to remove two obstacles on your way to the throne, you greedy prick.”

“And what would you do stop me?” he replies bitterly, scowling at me. “You mean to tell me you would rather have a traitor seated on the throne? Come now; I care honestly and deeply for you, Shera. Don’t ruin that favor for the sake of a vengeful spirit.”

Scoffing, I turn back, staring him dead in the eye as I spit on the floor.

“The only traitor I see is the executioner before me. Keep your affections to yourself, sadistic $%^&*.”

~|~|~|~|~

_“I promise, Vayne. They won’t slip through my fingers this time.”_

I crouch behind a stone wall alongside the small dispatch of soldiers Vayne sent out to calm a growing group of rebelling misfits in the older, lower sections of Archades. They moved from the city to the outskirts of the Tchita Uplands recently; their numbers only increase as time goes on. Too bad I’m not here to stop them alone.

“This is the den,” the leader of our group says lowly, nodding his helmeted head toward the mouth of the hidden cave. “Lady Solidor will take up the rear and watch our backs in case of an ambush. The rest of you, come with me.”

The group of twelve follows obediently, hands ready to grasp the ends of their swords should it become necessary. This mission is supposed to be quiet—at least, until we get inside and locate our targets. Anyway, that’s how Vayne meant it to go. Three long months have I waited, mourning the loss of my eldest and closest brothers. Finally, Vayne called me up, entrusted me with this small issue. Small enough for me to make a statement. Small enough for me to escape.

Things changed long ago; I ignored them. But now, there is no denying… Father changed. Vayne changed. Home changed. I don’t want any of them anymore. I refuse to believe I’m running after using them up. No, they use me when they please and throw me to the side once more. There’s a darkness overcoming House Solidor that I cannot bear to witness any longer. I pray Larsa finds his own way.

Far behind the rest of the squadron, I pull an explosive free from underneath my loose gray shirt, one I stole from Doctor Cid’s laboratory. I hear he’s lost his mind since returning from Giruvegan last month. Oh well; a dangerous man’s work will do as much for me as a sane man’s. I pull the pin from the glowing, cylindrical weapon, throwing it into the center of the group, and running as fast as I can. My sword clatters to the rocky floor of the cave but I don’t stop to pick it up. The ground rocks as the explosion sets off, men crying out in the panic. Several blasts continue to rattle the cavern and the ceiling crumbles down on their heads the moment I escape.

Taking a deep breath, I leap onto the back of the leader’s chocobo, snapping the reigns. The bird cries out, startled by my urgency, and sprints across the grassy plains without further hesitation. I cling to the downy neck of my ride, face buried in golden feathers. My heart rushes to pump blood faster, fed by adrenaline, but I’m not afraid. Quite the opposite. I burst out into laughter, straightening in my saddle and throwing a hand into the air with a loud cheer. My chest burns with joy and I feel like I can’t gulp down nearly enough fresh air. I want to scream that I’m finally free. And so I do.

The sensation wears off after hours of riding, my chocobo’s strides only strengthened after we stop by streams and I let it graze, feeding it the occasional gysahl green from the pouch on its side. Night fell half an hour ago; the monsters hiss and howl in the night, made braver by the shadows. Shielded only by the light of the lanterns surrounding the ferries by the seashore, I take hold of the chocobo’s reins, walking toward the only man I see at the dock. He turns to face me, only but a curious boy with a broad grin and sandy blonde hair.

“Heya!” he calls with a lazy wave, leaning against a post of the wooden dock casually. “Need something?”

“Passage across the sea,” I reply, my voice tense and somewhat breathless, as if the chocobo rode me all the way here. The boy looks over me quickly, glancing toward the ramshackle house just down the beach. “Please, this is urgent.”

“Why?” he asks, blue eyes sparkling as he cocks his head to the side, arms crossed.

“There’s… an important message I must deliver to the holy mountain immediately.” I nearly bite my cheek. When did lying become so easy? I suppose the three months of convincing Vayne I was alright were worth it.

“You sound Archadian,” he points out, shrugging and turning to lead the way to the shack. I can’t help but notice his bare feet, his threadbare tunic, and his torn brown pants. Sea folk… I suppose they don’t earn much. “I’ll ask Father if he minds the late run.”

The boy tosses a light smile over his shoulder. “Can you believe he leaves me out there to keep watch this late? I’m only twelve!” He grins now, turning to walk backward so he can face me. “How about you? How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” I reply stiffly. There are plenty of fourteen-year-old girls on the run late at night. Right?

“Cool!” he laughs, turning to open the front door. “Just, uh, leave your chocobo out here. Does he need to be sent anywhere?”

“He comes with me,” I answer. He nods, leaning on the cracked doorframe.

“Papa! We’ve got a special one!”

“Special one?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. He only flashes a bright smile back at me.

“Whatcha say, Jonan?” A rugged, broad man appears in the doorway. His large, tanned fingers scratch at a thick, graying beard and his eyes are hauntingly dark under the dim lamplight of his home. “Who’s this?”

“An Archadian messenger,” Jonan shrugs. His father scoffs, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately.

“Archadian?”

“Sir, I have an important delivery for the holy mountain across the sea,” I explain, bowing. The man chuckles, shaking his head.

“No need for pleasantries. How important is this message?”

“Dire, sir. I’m afraid my being slowed down may lead to hundreds of deaths. It is crucial that we leave immediately if at all possible.”

“Hn.” Jonan’s father sighs, reaching around the rough-cut door and pulling off a heavy gray coat. “You better pay well.”

“Would chops do you any good, sir? Or would you prefer gil?”

“I don’t visit Archades all that often. Make it gil,” he shakes his head, brushing past me. “My ship’s at the end of the dock. Make sure you tie down your bird—in case he gets spooked by the water. Should take us a few hours to get across the sea. The mountain’s around twenty miles from the shore.”

“Thank you.” I release a breath of relief, untying my chocobo and following Jonan to the dock. Accustomed to travel, my feathered friend has no qualms about stepping aboard the humble but efficient boat. I reach into the pocket of my dark, fitted pants, grasping a firm pouch of gil. With me, I have one thousand gil. I must save some just in case but… I’ll pay them generously when we arrive. They deserve it, these poor, hardworking folks.

“We’re off!” Jonan cheers, standing at the helm of the ship with his fists on his narrow hips. I smile, looking back down at my lap and twisting the gold ring on my pinky carefully. A simple band of gleaming metal reflecting a maroon that matches the flowers of the palace garden that I so dearly loved as a child. A gift from Beldroth.

“You like sailing,” I point out, tearing my eyes away from my hand. Jonan shakes his head, hopping down and skipping toward me to plop down on the edge of the boat at my side. His father watches cautiously from the rudder, though he’s smiling.

“Boats are okay and all, but I wanna fly an airship!” His bright eyes turn to the night sky dreamily. “To be up there, carefree with the stars… I would ditch this old drifter in half a second!”

“This ‘old drifter’ provides you with a home,” his father reminds him. He’s still smiling, well aware his words won’t change his lively son’s dreams. Perhaps even hoping Jonan will pursue them.

“I’ve been on several flights myself.” I laugh at the shocked expression the boy gives me. “I thoroughly enjoyed each. In fact, I hope to learn to fly one someday as well.”

“Whoa!” Jonan shakes his head, kicking his feet restlessly. His grin falls into a more amicable expression and he looks back up at me hopefully. “Hey, what’s your name?”  _It’s a secret. I can’t tell you._

“Shae.”  _Gods above, Shera. Now you’ve done it_.

We pull into the empty dock several hours later, shivering from the cold and exhausted from travel. Shuddering, I step from the boat with my chocobo’s reins grasped tightly. Jonan hops onto the sandy, snowy ground, stretching. His father looks at me expectantly.

“Now, miss, the money? Tonight, I’ll charge seventy-five—for keeping your patience with Jonan.”

“Hey! She liked me. Didn’t you, Shae?” I nod, smiling when I shake my head and reach into my pocket, mentally counting the handful of coins.

“Sir, I apologize, but you must think me crazy to pay  _seventy._ ” The sailor’s face turns into a deep frown and I laugh, stepping toward him and setting the money into his open hand. His eyes go impossibly wide, flickering between me and the money.

“Four hundred?! For a simple ride?” he demands. He shakes his head, his son frozen beside me with shock. “I can’t…!”

“No,” I reply firmly, shaking my head. “Please, take it. You have done me a great service— more than you could ever know.” I hop onto my chocobo, offering a smile to Jonan. “Take care, my friend. Someday you will take me for a ride on your airship, won’t you?”

“You bet!”

The warmth in my chest only gets me so far as I ride into the night. The wind picks up, the snow catches on every piece of me, and my chocobo’s steps slow. I can no longer see the path ahead of me, guided only by the towering walls of the mountains around me. Shaking against the bitter cold, I bury my face into the side of my chocobo’s head, whispering encouragements and promises of reward if we just make it. The shuddering bird presses on, snowflakes caught in its long golden lashes and feathers.

Finally, encouragements and promises get him no further and he stops altogether. Clutching fistfuls of feathers, I beg him to keep moving, swear that we’re nearly there. My efforts are in vain. I feel him stagger beneath me, stumbling against the force of the icy winds blasting down the mountain path. Strangled by the cold, I cannot stop myself from falling with him, landing half buried in a deep snow drift. The chocobo shudders his last breath soon after.

Shutting my eyes, I fall back against my frozen pillow, unable to move my muscles, my bones, my conscious. No, this is where I find my freedom. Not in plains or skies, but in a blizzard, alone. Fitting for a traitor.  _Freedom_ … At last, I’ve found it.

~|~|~|~|~

My body is incredibly sore. Warmth burns through the thin material of the tent, hurting my eyes when they blink open. Huffing, I frown at the blurry vision I have of my surroundings, leaning on my elbows. I blink a couple more times, startled by a voice.

“I see  _you’re_  awake.”

Jumping, I turn to see a young man staring back at me with pale green eyes, a slight smile crossing his lips. His skin is dark, tanned by the sun. Thick brown hair is brushed back from his square face, just barely reaching his shoulders. I’ve never seen him before, but his voice… it carries that tell-tale Archadian accent just as mine does.

“Like what you see? Must be a good thing to wake up to,” he teases, leaning forward to press his bare elbows to his exposed knees.

“Where am I?” I groan, sitting up. I shudder upon feeling air against my bare skin and look down. “And where’s my shirt?”

“Doctors took it off to check your vitals,” the boy replies, averting his eyes. Surprisingly, his cheeks are tinted pink. “You’re on Mount Bur-Omisace, the holy end goal of most pilgrims.”

“How…?” I frown at him, slowly regaining my memory of my last conscious state. He shrugs, offering a smile.

“I found you collapsed on the path with your chocobo. It almost didn’t make it, but I was able to bring you both here for recovery.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, shaking my head. “I apologize, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“This’ll do,” he grins, holding up my money pouch. Upon seeing my hesitation, he laughs. “I’m only teasing. I only took fifty for board for the chocobo. Figured that was enough.” He cocks his head to the side to give me a look that makes me the slightest bit uncomfortable. “You're rich for as young as you are. What’s your name, Sweetheart?”

“Shae,” I reply quietly, looking out toward the tent’s opening.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nudges my shoulder, holding out his hand. I take it reluctantly; his handshake is firm, warm. He flashes another broad grin. “The name’s Dern.”


	23. The Golmore Jungle

The sun is high overhead when our chocobos tire and we’re forced to leave them behind in the plains. I stretch my arms over my head, nearly stumbling into Balthier’s side when I yawn. He raises an eyebrow; I ignore him, straightening like nothing happened. Vaan rushes ahead of us, folding his hands together behind his head.

“I guess this one was a success!” he says, flashing a grin.

“Wow, I’m impressed, Vaan,” Penelo teases, smiling and clasping her hands behind her back.

“I got a good feeling!” the blonde laughs, shrugging. They continue bickering, including Larsa, as we meander towards the looming, dense jungle ahead of us. Ashe and Basch talk quietly behind us, but I still manage to pick up on the conversation.

“An alliance between Dalmasca and the Empire?”

“Reason tells me ‘tis the only course. We must void a wasting war with the Empire at all costs. Yet I fear I could not bear the shame. Had I but the strength—”

“A shame perhaps for me and you. But for Dalmasca it is hope!” Basch insists.

“And you can just accept this, can you?”

“After Vayne’s ruse I had abandoned hope for honor, yet never did I forget my knightly vows. If I could protect but one person from war’s horror, then I would bear any shame. I would bear it proudly.”

“I really do hate to eavesdrop,” I mutter, slowing to walk on the other side of the princess. Something in her words reminds me of how I used to be, searching only for the riches that would benefit myself in the “good” I did for others. “But Basch is right. Shame is an awfully hard burden to bear, I know. But as you strive to be Queen, you should know already that shame is the least of your problems when so many lives are at stake. Your ruling should not be for your honor, but for what’s best for your people.” Ashe shakes her head, brows furrowed.

“My people hate the Empire. They will not accept this.”

“There is hope,” Basch shakes his head, staring at the three youngsters playfully arguing ahead of us. “Hope for a future where we can join hands as brothers.”

“And I suppose it starts with those brats,” I sigh, cocking my head to the side. Ashe’s frown deepens and she turns to face me.

“Your words… I found them incredibly well said as if you've recited them. Where did you come across such a principle as a mere pirate?” I fight my heartbeat as it quickens, my face slowly draining of all color. Quickly, I shrug and hurry my pace to pass her by.

“I thought them up just now, like anyone speaks. Didn’t think of me as the pensive type, now did you?”

I force a laugh, distancing myself from them and keeping myself parallelled with Fran’s steps. The air grows heavy and laden with moisture, the light of the afternoon fading with the thick canopy stretching over our heads gradually.  _I have a terrible feeling about this place._  It doesn’t take long for the jungle to swallow us entirely, roaring with the chirps of crickets and squawks of colorful birds. Balthier’s gun cracks loud and clear as he shoots down a squiggling malboro that leaps from the shadows.

“It’s so dark,” Penelo whispers, huddling close to Basch’s side.

“Stick close to the path and all will be well,” he reassures her, sword drawn.

A growl rumbles from further down the stone path. I jerk my spear free, raising it defensively as the snarls come closer, surrounding us but obscured by the darkness. My back winds up practically pressed to Balthier’s as we stand in a circle, breaths held as we wait. Fran’s ears twitch; I stare hard into the foliage. There’s a rustle and then all goes silent.

A feline's shriek drowns out Fran’s warning and Balthier’s gun nearly deafens me as he shoots the panther that lunged at him with lightning reflexes. The kickback knocks him into me and sends me stumbling forward. I block a pair of snarling jaws with my spear as I roll to the ground, wrestling with the velvety black wildcat.

Rotten breath chokes me as I struggle, crying out when razor-sharp talons pierce my bare shoulder and tear my flesh as they dig in, torturously slow. Vaan slashes at the panther’s side and kicks it to the hillside, the cat tumbling off the edge of the stone path. Lowering a hand, he pulls me to my feet and runs to help Penelo and Larsa. Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore the searing pain burning in my arm when I move and the hot, steady flow of blood staining my white shirt. My head spins as I stagger toward my next opponent.

Unaware of my surroundings, I nearly topple Fran over as she steps back to fire an arrow. She misfires and the arrow nearly finds Basch’s temple. I open my mouth to apologize when I’m dragged backward suddenly, my cry of surprise matching Ashe’s when she, too, is pounced on.

I grit my teeth, trying to use the shaft of my spear to block deadly sharp teeth meant for tearing flesh. It slips from my grasp, clattering to the ground a few feet away. My hands reach up instinctively to push the panther off as it pounces, my heart pounding in my chest at Penelo’s scream. My voice tries to join her when my own strength isn’t enough, but nothing comes but a rasping gurgle when the wildcat’s jaws clamp down on my throat.

“ _Shera!_ ”

Hardly able to breathe past the blood flooding my throat, I try pushing again. And then the panther is  _gone,_ torn away from me and miraculously not taking my whole neck with it. I choke and gasp for air, coughing red splatters onto the rough stones as I turn over and push myself up on my elbows and knees. My spear drops to the ground beside my head and I see the bleary traces of a face to my right. My armored hand clutches my dripping throat, my body trembling. A wave of warmth washes over me and a flurry of green sparks dances over my skin.

I’m bathed once more in light before I can breathe again, healing magick stitching me together from the inside out. My vision clears and I see Larsa and Balthier peering down at me, the former of the two dropping to the puddle of blood and throwing his arms around me. My wounds are narrow slits across my neck now, still bleeding. There’s only so much a healing spell can do, I suppose. Surprised, I rest a hand on the base of the boy’s back. I forgot that underneath that smooth composure is a little boy. I glance up at Balthier, who offers me a potion with a raised eyebrow.

“That was quite the performance, now wasn’t it?”

“I wish it could have gone better,” I reply, my voice rough. Wincing, I uncap the blue crystal bottle and down the thin, medicinal substance. I glance toward Fran as Larsa peels himself away from my blood-soaked shirt. “Really sorry about that.” She shakes her head.

“You should only apologize to yourself. I was not harmed.”  _The princess…_

“Where’s Ashe?” I demand, trying to turn only to wince.  _Still sore._

“She’s been rescued by her knight in mismatched armor,” Balthier replies, cocking his head to the side. “Now what’s all this ‘Shera’ business?”

“The lengthier version of her name,” Larsa replies simply, his shaking hands clasping together to hide their trembling. “I apologize for allowing my manners to slip, Shae. I was only worried.”

“It’s not all that bad,” I reply, offering a weak smile and dragging myself to my feet. I stare down at my spear; the pole is half coated in blood as if the attacker skewered the panther- all the way through. “Who used that?”

“Balthier,” Vaan replies, hurrying over. “I wanted to help, but Ashe got taken down at the same time and I was closer to her—”

“It’s fine,” I laugh, ruffling his hair and stooping down to pick my blood-soaked weapon up off the ground. Frowning, I look down at my shirt. “This may need a good wash soon, though.”

“Is everyone alright?” Ashe pushes past Fran, a shallow line still marking her forehead. She eyes me before nodding firmly. “I apologize; I had not realized how narrow these paths were.”

“And I should have adapted,” I reply simply, sliding my spear into its slot on my back. Her expression lightens and she shakes her head.

“You have done so dutifully with each ship we come across. Your aptitude for mechanics has become irreplaceable. That much I can thank you for.” Sheepishly, I shrug once more, waiting for the others to pass before falling in line with Balthier, staring at the ground. Finally, I break the silence, keeping my voice low.

“So, why save the failed sky pirate, Leading Man?” I ask, giving him a sidelong glance from the corner of my eye. He keeps his forest green eyes dead set on Basch’s back. “Seems awfully heroic, ‘heart-of-gold’ to me, hm?”

“It would be a shame to see such an intriguing character in this story fall so soon,” he replies, diverting his eyes to look at me, that light, smug smile overtaking his face. “And now, to know your true name—it intrigues me even further.”

“Still trying to figure it out?” I tease, grinning and knocking into his shoulder.

“I admit, you have far more levels than I originally perceived.”

“Then I’d count it a success that you got  _this_ far. Don’t expect to dig any deeper; I’ve just broken your shovel.”

“And I suppose that you’ve forgotten that you owe me a  _crumb_ of your story each time I save you?”

“You’ve  _rescued_ me twice,” I huff, crossing my arms a little tighter. “But I suppose… What did you want to know? You asked my age the first time.”

“I remember,” he replies, looking around at the thick jungle enveloping us. “I don’t have a question now, but you’ve not been set free just yet. I’ll think of something.”

“Sounds good to me,” I grin, adjusting the tie at the end of my braid.  _Maybe…_

_Maybe Balthier isn’t so bad after all._

~|~|~|~|~

The blue panel of light ripples and glows, eliciting a gasp from Vaan when it zaps at his tentative touch. The dim light casts a cerulean tint across our faces, reflecting from eight pairs of eyes.

“What is it?” Vaan asks, his voice full of curiosity.

“The jungle denies us our passage,” Fran says, staring long and hard at the patterns traced across the illuminated gateway into the eastern portion of the jungle.

“What have we done?” Ashe asks her, her face pulled into an anxious frown. Fran backs away, turning on her heels to walk away.

“We? No... _I._ ”

“What’s that mean?” Vaan demands as she strides away. “How’re we supposed to get through that?”

Fran paces by, joining Balthier’s side. I trail behind, ears attentive.

“Making an appearance?” Balthier asks.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ over here!” Vaan cries, waving an arm over his head as if  _that_ might stop the viera once her mind's set on something. 

“I am,” Fran replies, nodding and keeping up the pace. I turn to face everyone else, waving for them to follow.

“Come along, Chatterbox. She’s not waiting for you to solve the riddle.”

“I thought you’d left for good.”

Balthier’s words catch my ear and I make sure to stay close so I don’t miss a word. I may be an eavesdropper, but I don’t think they’ll mind too much if I don’t plan on  _telling_ anyone. Right? Then again, information is worth far more than physical riches these days.

“Our choices are few,” the viera replies, shaking her head. Vaan calls their names, waving to catch their attention as they continue. “This is as much for you as it is me.” Balthier stops.

“Oh?”

Fran pauses, turning back and simply not caring that I’m watching them converse. Her eyes scan over the young man, seeing straight through his “grown-up” demeanor. Her nose twitches. “You are ill at ease.” Her voice lowers, her eyes flickering to me for half a second. “The nethicite troubles you?” Balthier’s composure collapses for half a second and Fran’s lips curl into the slightest of all smiles. “You’ve let your eyes betray your heart.” Balthier takes a deep breath, nodding once.

“Right.”

I come closer with Vaan as Fran begins to trace a finger across the next gateway she stops at. A colorful beam follows her every move, her eyes locked on it in deep concentration. Balthier stares straight ahead, seeming lost in thought. That, or simply blocking everything else out.

“What are you doing?” Vaan asks, pushing me to the side to see Fran. She pulls her hand away and blows on her palm, a green spark flying from her skin to the barrier.

“Soon you will learn,” she replies, glancing down at the thief. A path suddenly bursts into place, laden with grass and dull pink flowers. With a flash of white light, it becomes solid, a walkway to some secret place Fran sees fit for her to visit. Rather, for her to return.

“Whoa,” Vaan breathes. I nod, though my mind is elsewhere.  _The nethicite… Why does it bother ** **him**** so much?_

I’d heard mentions of nethicite here and there from Dern, little jokes or comments that would’ve offended any Archadian working for a House. But Balthier… he acts so bizarre around the substance that even  _Basch_ inquired about it this morning. How did I not notice sooner? Balthier is no noble hume who's simply afraid of what the nethicite could do to the people of Ivalice. There’s something else there.  _Something happened._ Curious how he spends his time trying to piece me together while I haven’t a single clue where to start on his puzzle.

“We go to seek aid of the viera who dwell ahead,” Fran explains, her dark eyes skimming over the path.

“I bet they’ll be glad to see you after so long,” Penelo offers, smiling. Fran’s face falls.

“I am unwelcome. An unsought guest in their wood.”

Slowly, we make our way down the path, one by one so we don’t bump each other off the soft edge of the grass. The walk is hardly long at all, leading around a patch of densely packed jungle trees. A tunnel of white and gold stone towers ahead, looming high overhead until we travel through. The light of the sun finally breaks through the foliage overhead, pouring down over a twisted system of paths gathered around a massive, gnarled tree trunk coated with moss and shelved mushrooms. Fran slows, stopping at the exit of the cave and lifting her head to the sunlight.

“In the village ahead you will find her: Mjrn. Bring her to me.” She rests a hand on her hip, nodding toward Vaan. “She will know why you call her.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Vaan asks, frowning.

“She said she was unwelcome, didn’t she?” Balthier counters, raising an eyebrow and wandering toward the village. “Not that humes are appreciated, but we’ll be tolerated.”

“You know that way?” I hurry to catch up to his side, studying the rising, twisting, towering tree in the center of the village.

“I’ve been in Eruyt once,” Balthier replies, lifting his chin and taking a deep breath. “The place never changes, it seems.”

“When was the last time?”

“You’ll see.”

The viera inhabiting the secret village stand tall as we enter, ears twitching and eyes following our every move. Their silvery white hair practically glows in the dim shadows beneath the broad branches of the tree. The ground is uneven underneath my feet, worn from hundreds of years of use by the viera people who have dwelled here practically since the beginning of time. As long as they remain hidden and neutral, they remain free from conflict in the limbs of their tree and its spirit. Something of the sort was taught to me in Archades.

The path spirals up and around the tree. Larsa, Penelo, and Vaan whisper back and forth behind us, Basch and Ashe hanging behind to absorb every detail. Viera scowl, frown, scoff as we pass by, some muttering amongst themselves and others warning us that we should leave for the sake of some “She.”

At the very top of the ascent, we find pairs of viera parting and a towering, rounded stone building standing beneath a thick layer of deep green leaves. The viera that once parted now surround us, blocking passage to the abode that must be Mjrn’s. Nervous, Penelo huddles at Vaan's side, Ashe and Basch coming forward as the tension builds. I find myself melting behind the rest of my companions, overwhelmed with the irritation of the viera around us. Vaan clears his throat.

“Hey, Mjrn lives her, doesn’t she? We’re here to see her.” We’re met with nothing but harsh stares from the crimson eyes of the viera. One’s ear twitches and she steps aside to reveal a new viera.

“You  _will_ leave at once,” she says firmly, though her eyes are gentler than those of the rest. Her accent is far thicker than Fran’s, though the latter’s may have faded from being away for so long. She brushes her long white hair from her face before continuing. “It is not allowed for humes to walk these grounds.”

“We’ll go as soon as we’ve seen Mjrn,” Vaan replies stubbornly, stepping forward. The viera surrounding us go uneasy, one by the wall even pulling her bow free and tugging gently on the tightly wound string.

“If you can find her,” the newest viera snaps, crossing her arms tightly. Vaan shakes his head.

“We’re not leaving until you let us see her.” The viera merely turns her head away, brows furrowed. Huffing, Vaan turns around, scowling at her. “Fine then. We’ll look for her ourselves.” Suddenly the viera’s face lightens up and I turn to face the source of the sound of rhythmic footsteps. Fran stops beside me, her expression guarded as she speaks to us.

“I’ve heard the voice of the Wood. She says Mjrn is not in the village.” She looks up at the difficult viera ahead of us sharply. “Jote. Where has she gone?” Steadily, Fran brushes past us to step up to the viera to whom she speaks.

“Why do you ask?” Jote’s voice is laced with sharp bitterness. “The Wood tells us where she has gone. Or… can you not hear Her?” Fran remains silent and Jote fights a smirk. “You cannot. Your ears are dull from hearing  _their_  harsh speech, I think.” Jote paces closer to Fran, her steps slow and taunting as she struts past. “Viera who have left the Wood are viera no longer.” She pauses by the edge of the platform upholding the building. “Mjrn, too, has left Her embrace.” Balthier steps up.

“And you forsake them in turn?”

“It is the will of the village,” she replies simply, turning to face him. Her face still holds disdain for any of the hume kind. “Viera must live always with the Wood. So is the Green Word, so is our law.” Her voice increases in volume as she speaks, her words tight and sharp.

“We’ll let  _you_  worry about keeping your laws,” Vaan scoffs, joining Fran’s side. “Just do  _us_ a favor and stay out of our way. We’ll find her ourselves.” Jote hangs her head, a pale green mist rising from beneath her heeled shoes. Her hands raise out to her sides and she takes a deep breath, frowning.

“Our sister has left the Wood and gone west. She wanders among men who hide themselves in clothes of iron armor. Thus to me has the Wood spoken.” With that, she turns and starts toward the doors of the stone hut, stopping only when Fran speaks.

“The viera may begin as part of the Wood, but the Wood is not the only end we may choose.”

“The same words I heard fifty years ago,” Jote mutters.  _Fifty years… Fran’s been around for a longer time than I originally thought, then._ She disappears for good this time, closing herself behind heavy copper doors.

Sighing, Fran turns on her heels and leads the way down the path. I look around once more before following the others, reading the disappointment in the viera’s steps. Balthier makes sure to walk at her side the entire way out, staring hard at the scowls of the irate viera. At the exit, Balthier turns and genuinely smiles at the angered thief trailing behind him.

“Not bad, Vaan. Didn’t think we’d get any information out of that one.” Winking at the boy, he faces toward the wooded walls surrounding the viera village. “So then, what was she saying about men in a warren?”

“The Henne Magicite Mines—maybe that’s what she meant,” Larsa offers, glancing up at me.   
“They lie in Bancour, south of the Ozmone Plain. I know Shae’s visited there before to retrieve nethicite.” I nod, avoiding Balthier’s stare, which quickly sharpened at the mere mention of the stuff.

“The whole region is a colony of the Archadian Empire. The iron armor she spoke of would be the soldiers.”

“Is that a problem?” Balthier asks Larsa, turning and nodding toward the exit. “Let’s move.”

As he takes a few hurried steps forward with Fran hot on his heels, they’re stopped by Vaan’s voice.

“Fran!”

“Yes?” The viera turns back to face him, an ear twitching as she prepares to listen. Balthier looks all too impatient, staring hard at the boy with an arched eyebrow.

“I was wondering—what Jote said, you know?” Vaan steps forward, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly. “About how you said the same thing fifty years ago?”

“Your point?” Fran asks, eyes narrowing. I cringe at the words flowing from the boy’s mouth, kicking myself for not stopping him.

“Uh… How old were you again?”

Fran’s face falls and the forest falls dead silent. Balthier’s eyebrow shoots to his hairline, his face stricken with awkward horror at the thief’s innocent inquiry. I shudder as the viera turns and walks away coldly without a word. Groaning, Balthier throws his arms out to the side before huffing and following his newly irritated partner.

“ _Nice_ , Vaan.”

The others follow, shaking their heads or simply ignoring Vaan. I sigh, struggling to keep my secondhand embarrassment at bay as I pass by. Larsa scoffs.

“Surprisingly rude,” he mutters as he strides by the uncomfortable boy.

“Try to grow up, please,” Penelo admonishes, brushing past.

“Just… Mind your manners,” I add in a low voice, rushing past to get to the front of the line and away from the pensive princess and her skulking knight. A laugh bubbles up from my stomach and I let it loose quietly as I run past Fran and Balthier, swinging around a lamp and throwing myself toward the top of the stairs we climbed down to find the viera path.

“Aren’t you just bubbling with energy,” Balthier mutters, glancing up at me as I bounce around on my toes.

“I’m feeling awake now,” I laugh, stretching my arms overhead.

“Funny when you look like the  _dead_.”

“I’m quite the clown,” I retort, turning to face the others joining us slowly. “Now, to find those mines.”


	24. The Henne Mines

Even the moonlight feels like its kissing my skin, raining down light that isn't produced by a magic flame. I take a deep breath and reach out a hand to stroke mine and Vaan's chocobo's face. My fingers disappear underneath layers of golden down. I can feel Larsa standing at my side, eyeing the bloodstains trailing down my shirt.

"Are you going to wash up?" he asks.

"Eventually," I shrug. "I don't mind showing what I've survived, though," I add, giving him a gentle, teasing smile. "Think it'll scare those Imperial soldiers away?"

"They might just believe they're seeing a ghost," he nods, smiling. He turns to Ashe. "Will we be making camp here?"

"It's all we can afford," she admits, glancing over at Balthier and Fran. "I'd rather not return to the garif people tonight."

"Understandably so," I nod, pulling myself away from the chocobo and turning to face Ashe and Basch. "Are we holding up well?"

"As well as I can be," Basch replies with a nod. "And you? You took a beating."

"A little sore," I shrug, wandering toward the towering stone walls creating a sort of valley between the jungles and the plains. "But, all things considered, I'm doing pretty damn good."

"I'm glad," Larsa nods, earning a gentle smile from Ashe.

Conversation fades and I curl up against the side of the stone, my back facing everyone else. Sighing, I close my eyes and let the weight of my exhaustion cover me like a blanket. Slowly, ever so slowly, I drift off to sleep, drawn back from the edge only by the feeling of someone pressing their back to mine. A sleepy smile draws across my face and I push closer the slightest bit to absorb their warmth.  _Goodnight, Larsa._

In the morning, I'm the last to rise. Quickly, Ashe has us prepare and hop onto our chocobos. I wrap my arms around Vaan once more, nearly on the edge of sleep as we take off with my cheek rested on the back of his shoulder. The chocobo sways gently with every step, only picking up speed when Larsa points out the best way to the Henne Mines. I fight to stay awake as we ride some more, startled as we leap over a long gap and I gasp, clinging even tighter in surprise. They laugh at me; I roll my eyes. Finally, I slide off the back of the chocobo when it stops. Vaan starts to speak when Penelo cuts him off.

"W-what is that?"

I turn to see a pile of bloodied, mangled bodies stacked outside the mouth of the cave. Shuddering at the heavy scent of blood, I step closer, Larsa at my side. I kneel in front of one of the bodies, my fingers tracing over bent and torn armor.

"Researchers from the Draklor Laboratory," Larsa muses. "What were they doing here?"

"Research," Balthier replies dryly.

Without anything else to add, I straighten and head for the mouth of the cave, drawing my spear. After yesterday's fiasco, I can't fall behind again. I can't be a liability. The first bat that dives at me is dead with one sharp stab from my weapon. We travel deeper into the mine, the walls swapping between brick designs and dirt constantly. Tracks trail along the ground, ready for minecarts to return overflowing with nethicite.

Basch takes a good slash across the front from an angered cluster of seekers, Vaan constantly pressing buttons that open and close gates for our path. The mines are a labyrinth, winding with tunnels and locked doors and a variety of flan. The harder I try to stay alert, the more exhausted I feel. I meant for the skies and quick travel, not chocobo rides and day-long walks.

"It's so dark in here," Vaan complains, frowning at his blood-stained dagger.

"If you would like to add to the mine's budget for electricity, I would not mind," Larsa replies smoothly, a coy smile lifting across his lips. Penelo laughs, shaking her head.

"He can't! He's been broke since Shae stole his gil."

"I stole it fair and square," I shrug, patting the pouch underneath the orange sash draped across the side of my leg. "He can pout all he wants, but he's got to steal it back."

"I've  _tried_ ," Vaan groans, rolling his eyes when Penelo ruffles his hair gently.

"It's alright, Vaan. We all know you have a lot of work to do before your pirating skills are any good."

"Hey!" They bolt off ahead of us, shoving and laughing. I huff.

"Glad to see we recharged the entertainment equipment."

"Are you really?" Balthier asks, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose you're part of their ranks."

"I'd consider myself half a level above," I reply with a nonchalant shrug. "I've at least  _owned_  a ship."

"Yes, it was most impressive," Larsa nods, though his eyes are scanning the walls. I grin anyway, my chest flooding with pride.

"She was. My partner did a fantastic job recreating my visions."

"He was a most impressive worker," Larsa agrees. He pauses. "I worry we may encounter a difficult challenge here."

"Why's that?" I frown.

"I feel it too," Fran speaks up, lifting her face to the gentle draft drifting over our heads. "We have yet to face a true figth in these mines." Her face falls, brows pinching together the slightest bit. "There is something odd about the Mist here."

"If Fran says so, then I'll believe it," Balthier sighs. "How close is the danger?" Fran's frown deepens.

"I am uncertain."

"That's reassuring," I huff, kicking at a loose stone on the ground. "Larsa, these mines look fairly empty to me."

"Why do you think they go so deep?" my brother counters, raising one dark eyebrow. "I thought Dern might have taught you that." My teeth instantly clamp down on the inside of my cheek, my heart aching with anger and pain. Balthier's steps falter for half a second, hardly noticeable. Luckily, I notice.

"We near it," Fran says, covering whatever it was that Balthier meant to say next.

"Look—the magicite," Larsa points out, motioning to the walls that grow denser with an underlying blue light. "These mines much resemble the ones at Lhusu." His pale eyes dawn with realization. "Of course. Draklor must be searching for new sources of ore. Should the Resistance forces move, the rich veins of magicite in Bhujerba will be forever beyond their grasp."

There's a groan and Larsa immediately runs toward a guard laying on the floor. Fran gasps, clutching a hand to her chest.

"Is it her? What is this Mist?"

Larsa and Vaan stop as a short-haired viera stumbles into the open, seemingly lost in a daze. She murmurs to herself aloud as she unsteadily walks across the stony ground. If it wasn't so creepy, I'd say she was seriously drunk.

"The scent of humes. The scent of power," she chants.

"What's wrong with her?" Ashe asks, stepping up to Fran's side. Mjrn's head snaps around to face us, her eyes wide with rage and her clawed finger pointing toward us as her voice takes on four different tones.

" _Stay away!_ " she shrieks. "Power-starved  _hume_!"

She turns on her heels and sprints away, wavering from side to side as if she's being dragged by a rope. I shudder; that's by far the most unnerving sight I've witnessed on this trip. Fran looks just as stunned as the rest of us. Balthier shakes his head, clutching his gun.

"Shall we go after her, then?"

"We must follow her," Fran mutters, shaking her head. "Mjrn..."

We hurry down the hallway even though every nerve in my body screams for me to turn back because it's not safe. Something is off. We enter the next area quickly, a round room leading off into another hallway. Mjrn skitters away once more, her disturbing flops and flails leaving me horribly uncomfortable.

My heart leaps into my throat when a monster the size of the room itself catches my eye. How I didn't notice it, I have not the slightest clue. The giant creature, shaped and scaled like an ancient dinosaur, turns to face us, a loose ring hanging around its head like a lopsided halo. It roars its protest and stomps its feet on the floor, challenging us. And who are we to deny a fight?

Vaan dives right in, slashing at the monster's ankles and cutting through its thick hide. I stick to the corners of the room, watching it snap at the thief and Basch, who stay fairly close. Fran steps back and sets her arrow aflame, firing it into the face of the beast. Shrieking, the massive creature claws at her; she bounds out of the way, diving closer to avoid the pointed ends of its talons.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I dive in with my spear, driving its tip into the monster's flesh and using my momentum to pull myself up onto the beast's back. Clinging to the rough, worn scales running down its gray back, I pull my weapon free and clamber across its neck and onto its head. It shakes as if I'm merely a flea; I hang on tight.

When it stops, I take a deep breath and leap into the air, twisting around to jam my lance clean into its black eyeball. Practically  _screaming,_ the beast shakes me off violently. I fall to the ground with my spear clutched tightly in hand, rolling to my feet. I stumble uneasily when the monster stomps beside me. A fluttering green light hits my chest and spreads across my body. A spell sent from Larsa, no doubt.

Basch manages to slide underneath the creature and slice its vulnerable belly open. Blood pours down onto the ground, covering the knight's arm in a bath of crimson. As he makes his escape, the monster shrieks and stomps, rearing its head and snapping at random. It nearly beheads Vaan as it lashes out, its underside continuously spilling. I gag both at the sight and the smell; Ashe dives in at her opening and slits its wide throat. With a strained, gargled groan, the beast paws its last at Penelo and collapses onto its side.

We hardly have time to celebrate, hearing uneven steps behind us. Fran gasps, Mjrn stumbling toward us with a glowing blue stone in her hand. The nethicite clatters to the floor and rolls toward us, only to burst after coming to a stop. Fran rushes forward, stopped when a hovering shadow emerges from behind Mjrn's exhausted body. I grip my spear, watching as Balthier steps forward behind his partner. The shadow dissipates; Mjrn collapses to the floor, limp.

"That thing inside her. What was it?" Vaan asks, staring at the fallen viera. Fran doesn't answer, stooping down to lift the other viera up into her arms. Mjrn's eyes flutter up and she stares up at Fran.

"Is it you?" she asks, her voice light. Fran nods and Mjrn smiles, her head falling back against Fran's arm. Fran looks up at us after a moment, standing and taking Mjrn up in her arms.

"Let us find a place for her to rest."

_~5 years before~_

_"What's for dinner?" I ask, tossing my heavy bag onto the dusty ground outside our tent. Dern shrugs, tossing a look over his bare shoulder._

_"Check the dinner cart." He goes back to scraping at a stone with a small knife, carving a precise design into its smooth, cerulean surface. "I never know these things."_

_"Well, aren't you in a mood," I tease, crossing my arms. A woman walks by with her young daughter, balancing a water jug on her slim shoulder. Just as everyone that visits here, she gives us the slightest look of disapproval. Even the council hint that it's a bit... unnecessary for me and Dern to share a tent. Most, if not all, take it the wrong way. No, Dern is nothing more than my savior and friend._

_"I'm concentrating," he huffs. Suddenly, he hisses, the stone clattering the ground abruptly. I sigh, crouching beside him to see a thin trail of blood trickling down his thumb. Fighting a smile, I look up at him through my lashes._

_"Doesn't look like it."_

_"You distracted me," he grumbles, elbowing me away. Laughing, I stand, placing my hands on my hips._

_"Aw, don't be like that. Why don't we grab us some dinner and watch that sunset of yours?"_

_Half an hour later, we sit on the edge of the cliffside that upholds the temple, its pilgrims, and its refugees. Tomorrow, Dern and I hunt for the evening meal. Tonight, we have the same vegetable stew served to everyone else that wanted dinner today. Some people prefer picking from the garden over leaving and hunting game—I don't blame them. It's dangerous out there. Dern's nearly died several times. I'm lucky I'm quick. I don't know what I would do if..._

_"You're thinking too much again," Dern points out, setting his empty wooden bowl to the side and leaning back on his palms, letting his bare chest absorb the fading sunlight. I tear my eyes away from mesmerizing ripples under his skin and raise an eyebrow._

_"Not too much. Just musing."_

_"About...?"_

_"Hunting, food, gardens," I shrug. He chuckles, turning his gaze toward the clouds._

_"What a variety of topics," he breathes. His eyes flutter shut before pulling open even brighter than before. "Someday, I'll make enough money to get a ship... I'll be a sky pirate, no matter what those councilors say about righteousness."_

_"I've yet to see you prove your prowess," I tease, nudging his side. He merely raises an eyebrow, tossing a fruit at me that seems to have come from nowhere. "Where did you...?"_

_"Madesi left his stand earlier," he shrugs, biting into the ripe, yellow flesh of the fruit. I laugh, shaking my head. **That poor bangaa**. I tear at the juicy treat, reveling in the taste. The taste of a dessert I can't afford. I swore I would save all my gil to help Dern._

_"I'll take you, too, if you want." I almost choke._

_"You would?"_

_"Don't act surprised," he laughs, drawing a knee upward and lying flat on his back, hands clasped behind his head. I set my bowl aside and turn to face him, cross-legged. My hair absorbs the heat of the sun, warming my head and shoulders. "You're small, Shae. Quick. Fantastic at calculations. No **random**  girl should know how to solve such abstract things so easily." I swallow my fear, staring at the horizon._

_"I hear my mother was a fast thinker," I murmur, trying my most common excuse._

_"Aye, she was."_

_"What?" My heart leaps into my throat. He opens an eye, a sympathetic smile crossing his lips._

_"At least, I've heard that too, from all the Archadians criticizing your father for his failure to be faithful."_

_" **Dern** ," is all I manage to squeak out. He looks far too relaxed. Heard from the Archadians? I knew he must be from there, but this... I never inquired about Dern's past or his family and he never did the same. It was a mutual respect we held that let us pretend what was behind us could never surface again if we hid._

_"Calm down," he smiles, propping himself up on one elbow. He reaches forward, taking one of my hands in his, an unfamiliar touch. "I understand why you never said anything. However, I think it may be time to reveal that I knew who you were the instant I saw you in the snow last year."_

_"Dern..."_

_"Hush, Sweetheart. Let me talk. You, my dear, are Shera Castean Solidor, daughter to Emperor Gramis Gana Solidor. And I, though you may not know the name well, am Adamar sien Bunansa, second son to Doctor Cid."_

_"Bunansa?" I frown, blinking at the man thought knew better. "Cidolfus?"_

_"My father," he nods, though there's a shift in his demeanor at the mention of the name. "My younger brother and I decided to leave Archades after a... **falling out** with him. He lost himself in his search for power; he was Cidolfus no longer."_

_"Your brother," I mutter, leaning closer. His eyes flicker up to mine. "What happened to him?"_

_"We chose to part ways after we were free. Though, there was strong distrust and bitterness between us after so many disagreements. I have not seen him since and most certainly hope to never see him again."_

_"I see." I huff, playing with his fingers absentmindedly. "Adamar... It sounds familiar."_

_"I was a Judge," he sighs. "Both of us were." I restrain my reaction and nod. **Gods...**_

_"I never said anything because I wanted to disappear, Dern," I explain in a low voice, meeting his eyes earnestly. He nods, squeezing my hand._

_"Trust me; I know. We can put this behind us now, though. There's no more hiding for me." Smiling, I turn to the dimming sky. Clouds splashed with pinks and golds and violets scatter across the sky, creating a splatter painting of pure nonsensical, gorgeous color._

_"Dern..."_

_"Fates above," he breathes, sitting up. "Beautiful." I look over to meet his lighthearted gaze, laughing and throwing my arms around him, holding him tightly. **So cheesy. **_

_"Do me a favor," I murmur, turning to watch the colors fade into dusk._

_"Anything."_

_"Take me with you when you go."_

_"I will."_

_"Promise me," I demand. I pull away to hold up my pinky. He chuckles, linking his finger with mine and forcing me to meet his honest, earnest gaze._

_"I promise."_


	25. Fighting for Our Lives

"When the hume soldiers came to the Wood, the village took small heed of them. So long as the Wood herself is not harmed, the viera give little care to goings on beyond Her." Mjrn's eyes fall to the rough floor, her white ears a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding us. "But in me an uneasiness stirred. I had to discover why they had come." Balthier rests his hands on hips.

"So you came here hoping to find something out, and got yourself caught." Mjrn nods. "You're as foolhardy as your sister." His smile is light and friendly, though the viera's cheeks are still flushed with both shame and exhaustion.

"They took me then, and set close beside me a stone." She stands, looking around at each of our faces. "They said its Mist would be drawn into me, that the viera well suited this end. I saw the light coming from the stone, and then..." Her voice trails off as she turns to her sister, who nods.

"We have seen this. On  _Leviathan,_ the Mist released from the Dawn Shard drove me, too, into such a rage." Fran nods toward Mjrn. " _She_ was taken not by the Dawn Shard."

"Manufacted nethicite," Larsa muses. Fran nods. "Then that means—Penelo, the stone I gave you, do you still have it?"

"Sure, it's right here," Penelo replies, pulling the blue stone from a pouch strapped to her leg. Balthier's eyes follow the glow of the nethicite closely, narrowed, and he crosses his arms. Larsa snatches it away sharply, swiveling around so Penelo can't see it. His gloved fingers trace over its grooved surface gingerly, his thin black brows falling heavy.

"This is a thing more dangerous than I had imagined. I should never have given it to you." He sighs, hanging his head. "Forgive me, I did not know." Penelo smiles.

"I'd always thought of it as sort of a good luck charm," she reassures him. "And even if it is dangerous, on the  _Leviathan_ it kept us safe." Larsa turns and smiles back at her, satisfied by her answer. Ashe sighs, bowing her head.

"There is a place for all things, even danger such as this."

"I hope you're right about that," Vaan murmurs, gray eyes falling to the tips of his rapidly wearing boots. A long pause in conversation follows shortly afterward, Mjrn sinking back down onto the crate she sat on before she leaped to her feet. Finally, Balthier sighs, shaking his head.

"Can't be helped here. How about we get you back home, Mjrn?"

~|~|~|~|~

The viera village of Eruyt holds a whole new air as we trek through it for the second time, now with a second shamed viera in our midst. Eyes constantly turn toward us, each far less than welcoming. As the third hume visit they've experienced in a week, I don't think we're doing anyone any favors. Our party comes to a stop upon seeing Jote and two other viera waiting for us at the tall house we stopped at during our first visit. The sisters stare at each other in a long silence before Jote breaks it.

"I heard the Wood's whispers." A viera strides toward us, clutching something in a cage of her clawed fingers. "Take it."

"Lente's Tear is a permission." The second viera speaks as the first hands the charm to Vaan. "Pass through the Wood and leave. To other places go."

"That cannot be all!" Mjrn protests, stepping past the Dalmascan thief. "I saw it when I left the village. Ivalice is changing! How can the viera stand and do nothing at all?"

"Ivalice is for the humes," Jote replies coldly. "The Wood alone is for us."

"But that is wrong!" Mjrn persists. "How can we just hide here in the trees when all the world outside is on the move!? I, too, wish to live freely—to leave this Wood!"

"Do not do this," Fran cuts in calmly. "You must remain away from the humes. Stay with the Wood. Live together with the Wood. This is your way."

"But Fran—my sister!" Mjrn protests.

"I am no longer of you," Fran shakes her head. "I have discarded Wood and village. I won my freedom. Yet my past has been cut away forever. No longer can my ears hear the Green Word. This...  _solitude,_ you want, Mjrn?"

"Sister—"

"No, Mjrn. Only one sister remains to you now. You must forget my existence." Choking on tears, Mjrn turns and runs away, throwing the doors to the building open and rushing to hide inside.

"I am sorry to make you do this," Jote says, though her voice carries no remorse.

"She goes against the laws of the Wood," Fran replies, thoughtfully scanning over her familiar surroundings. "I threw down these laws. It is better that I do this. Better I than one who must uphold these laws herself."

A heavy silence falls over us and Jote nudges her assistants away. I feel a hand rest on my shoulder gently, my signal to turn and follow the others. Balthier drops his hold easily, glancing over his shoulder at his partner one last time before motioning toward the exit to the village.

"Full of traditions, aren't they?" he mutters, noticing my frown.

"Far too many," I huff, uneasily staring back at an icy glare directed straight at me. "I don't know how they can stay here."

"And so you agree with Mjrn." Balthier sighs, shrugging. "I suppose I'd never understand it myself. Guess it's good I'm no viera."

"Good thing," I repeat, fighting a smile at imagining Balthier as a hare-hume mash-up.

Not long after we leave, Fran joins us, stepping between me and Balthier to walk beside her partner in silence. As we exit the Eruyt Village, Fran keeps her eyes forward and her chin up; there's no going back. Not now, not ever.

The jungle is heavy with humidity yet again, sticking my clothes to my skin and making the already worn skin beneath my armguard itch terribly. With the token the viera gave us, we can pass the barriers blocking the paths we couldn't cross before we visited. Twice. Dim lanterns light our way through the darkened woods and illuminate the hordes of panthers and malboros and treants that attack us left and right. Ashe refuses to stop for the night, pressing us to hurry on our way to Mount Bur-Omisace.

"How much longer," Vaan whines, crossing his arms. He traces the flat of his dagger across his bare arm. A pair of viera eyes us as we walk past, most likely scouts or wardens for the Wood.

"It depends on how long you stand around complaining," I retort, tearing my eyes away from the viera and looking at Vaan pointedly.

"She does have a point," Penelo adds sweetly, smiling sheepishly at her friend. Larsa wrestles with a smile. We cross a grassy threshold into an oasis of moonlight, a thick carpet of green leading across the gap to the next path into the jungle. "Beautiful..." Penelo whispers, eyes wide with wonder as she looks around the colorful scene. The flower bed of pinks, purples, and yellows moves; rather, it  _breathes._

" _Alive_ ," I correct, snatching Penelo's elbow and jerking her back to the group as the mass  _stands,_ shaking just enough grass away to reveal a rough, its stone face resembling that of the mine monster's. It shakes its entire stone and plant body, shrieking a roar that crackles and groans with every second it lasts.

"Move!" Basch shouts, shoving us into the ring with the beast as two massive pillars of old stone crumble down and block the way we came. A couple of trees come to life, peeling off the wall to reveal towering stone bodies and gleaming foliage no doubt full of poisonous sap.

Vaan dives right in, slicing through the thick vines and flowers to reach the stone flesh of the beast. As with the scaly monster before it, Fran and I decide targeting its eyes would be best. As Basch and Ashe tag team its looser joins with their blades, Balthier and Vaan keep it busy with their bullets and daggers. I dive around the other side of the enormous creature and clutch a handful of stiff moss, pulling myself up onto its back. Below, Penelo and Larsa defeat the first poisonous tree.

Grabbing and pulling and kicking, I fight my way to the top of the giant creature, clinging to a hollow log on its head when it groans and kicks against a particularly hard strike from Basch. Gritting my teeth, I press on, grass tearing under my grip as I cling tightly. With one hand, I reach back to pull my spear free. My other holds me steady as the monster whips around to lash out at my companions, finally seeing us as a real threat.

Just as I get my weapon out, the beast lurches forward and sends me toppling from its forehead to its broad snout. Struggling to my feet, I find myself flying through the air when the monster rears its head and snaps its jaws down on the back of my shirt. I barely have time to think as I shaken back and forth violently. Dizzy and disoriented, I hardly notice I'm flying again until I slam into the stone wall and crumple on the ground, breathless.

Choking on air, I shove myself upward and try to clamber to my feet, only to feel a snap in my lower right leg. I clamp my teeth down on the inside of my cheek, barely ducking under a swing of the monster's tail. Penelo winds up separated from Larsa and next to Vaan on the other side of the cavern. My brother wasn't lucky enough to miss the blow, but he heals himself and hurries to draw his sword once more. Shuddering, I watch the bout of bad luck unfold before me in mere seconds that take a century.

As Larsa rushes back toward the battle, the creature whips its tail around dangerously close to him and knocking Ashe clean out. The second poisoned treant clambers toward Balthier from behind, the sky pirate too busy glaring into his jammed gun to pay much attention to his impending pain. My eyes dart back to my brother; he's too far. Then I catch Vaan's eye, nodding toward Larsa as I push off my wall. He nods back and hurries toward the youngest of House Solidor.

Gritting my teeth and forcing myself to endure the pain, I rush toward our resident leading man and clutch my spear between my two hands. Once I've just about reached him, I use my momentum to shove him toward the ground a few feet away with the edge of my spear, losing my balance and toppling down beside him. The treant's raised stone arm slams to the dirt only to meet nothing. Balthier's gun suddenly fires right beside my ear, leaving my head ringing. The treant collapses with a groan.

"Impeccable timing," the pirate mutters, pushing himself to sit up. I do the same, clutching my ear.

"I'll say," I huff, turning back toward the fight. I turn just in time to see Vaan fail, to see a healing spell flitter to the ground, to see Larsa slam into the wall and fall into a limp pile. Unable to breathe a cheer when Fran and Basch finally topple the monster, I desperately drag myself toward Larsa's side, clutching the small frame of the unconscious boy. A final stone from the creature breaks the blockade in front of the way we came while the others hurry to help Ashe as she awakens. Vaan skids to a stop beside me, panting.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get—" he starts. I shake my head, staring up at Penelo when she kneels on my other side. I press my palm to a bleeding wound on the back of the boy's head as Penelo clasps her hands together and murmurs incoherent words under her breath. A wave of green light washes over Larsa, bathing him in healing magick. I feel the cuts on his skin pull tight into narrow lacerations and pale scars as the magick works.

"He'll be okay," I choke out, brushing the dark strands of hair from his face. The last time I saw him like this... I shake my head. We were only children then, him far more so than I. I told him it'd be fun outside Archades. And then the pirates came. Vayne somehow always managed to come to my rescue, and to his. The last time I sat here clutching his unconscious, wounded body, I promised he'd never get hurt again. I guess Fate really doesn't give a damn about what we want.

"Is everyone alright?" Basch asks, Ashe and Fran trailing behind him. "We received more than we bargained for."

"We're fine," I nod, tugging an x-potion free from the pocket beneath my sash and chugging the bitter substance. My bones realign slowly, pulling and snapping and moaning. Vaan reaches forward and gently loosens my grip on Larsa, grinning.

"Pen just healed him and here you are giving him more bruises."

"What say we leave before another one of those comes along," Balthier suggests, fastening his gun to his back.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Vaan huffs, standing and dusting off his pants. "I can get him, Shae."

"Alright," I nod, letting Vaan lift Larsa from my lap and starting to stand. Suddenly, a hand lowers before my face. I follow the long arm up a ruffled white sleeve and to a raised eyebrow and the slightest of smiles.

"I suppose it's the least I could do," Balthier shrugs. I take a deep breath, shaking my flooding thoughts from my head, and take hold of his hand. The pirate pulls me to my feet, nodding for the group to keep moving, and eyes me as we walk behind the others. "That's twice now you've saved my hide with no obvious motivations."

"I prefer not to witness the death of those I've spent a decent amount of wasted time with," I retort, earning a scoff.

"Unfortunately,  _Shera_ , you don't strike me as a woman to deliberately waste her time. At least, not for this long." He shakes his head, adjusting the cuff on one of his sleeves. "So why bother with the heroics? For the sake of adventure?"

"Like I said, I'd prefer not to witness too much death," I shrug. "I've seen far too much already, and I'm hardly much older than Vaan." I kick at a rock, tugging at the armor over my left arm uncomfortably. "I suppose... I've ruined enough lives as it is." I flash a grin. "I guess it's easy enough to save an incompetent oaf's ass every once in a while, yeah?" He chuckles.

"By your standards, you're asking the wrong man."

"Oaf," I correct, winking. I turn my eyes to Vaan and Larsa, sighing. Balthier hums the same tune he first sang under his breath in the sewers beneath Rabanastre, scanning the changes in scenery. A familiar melody I find myself both hard-pressed and unable to remember.  _Oh well._

A familiar growl from the bushes rumbles through my ears and cuts off all thoughts. Vaan groans, turning to Balthier.

"I think we  _gotta_ run this time."

Balthier sighs, running a hand through his short hair and nodding.

"Running it is, then." He turns to the glowing pairs of amber eyes in the greenery to his right and shakes his head. "You'd best provide a new wardrobe to fix these cuffs you've ruined, cat."


	26. Enraptured

_~2 years before~_

_The dark strains my eyes, broken only by the colorful glowing symbols and buttons crossing the dashboard. A pencil presses against a callous on my ring finger as I scribble down note after note, design after design. Nearly two years have passed since we bought a junky little ship from a graveyard outside Rabanastre. Nowadays, she's sailing the skies smoothly, much larger, sleeker, and all around better than before. She doesn't rattle; she hums happily. She doesn't shake; she fights turbulence relentlessly. She doesn't fail; she perseveres constantly._

_"This one blends in," I murmur, circling a button on my rough sketch of the board. The wide, rough surface bites at my pencil, greeting my ears with the gentle scrape of granite to paper. Ever since we picked her up, Dern took his time building in the designs I draw out with meticulous effort. He taught me how to fly, how to think quickly, how to calculate. He taught me how to run days effectively without a wink of sleep. He taught me to care for someone other than myself._

_"What if we..." My voice trails off in the darkness._

_The **Castean**  is grounded for tonight, on the outskirts of Archades. Much closer to the empire than I prefer, but there's a good deal in store for us if we play our cards right with this bangaa bandit. The ship is concealed by Dern's own version of a device the empire crafted years ago—a device that renders my baby completely invisible. Every possible way to track our ship is blocked—which is why I nearly choke on air when three loud knocks rattle against her side._

_"Gods above," I growl, tossing my work into the copilot's seat and lean further toward the windshield. From here, I can't see our visitor._

_Huffing, I pick up the pen and scribbling down a note for Dern to increase visibility and hurry away to the entrance of the ship. Unable to see, I brace myself for the worst and pull out a dagger. I'm stunned into silence upon seeing the fearful expression of a slim, small boy outside. He didn't bother to disguise himself, still dressed in the tight white stockings, cropped black pants, and a patterned purple shirt he wore all day. His blue eyes search the empty space he sees ahead of him nervously in the dark, though I can tell he's trying to keep himself calm._

_"Larsa?" I drop down and out of the cloak of the **Castean** , tucking my knife away. His face breaks out in a momentary smile, his short arms tying themselves around my waist. All too quickly, he pulls away, taking a deep breath. "What are you doing here?" My heart fills with dread and I check our surroundings carefully. "What if you were followed?"_

_"I assure you, you have worse problems at hand," my brother replies dutifully, incredibly level-headed for a frightened child. "Shera, they found your location. You're being hunted as we speak."_

_"By who?" I frown, crossing my arms. The metal of my left arm's thick armor clinks against the bracelets around my other wrist._

_"Vayne," he sighs, though his voice is rushed. "Please, Shera, fly away! He brings with him four well-armed soldiers."_

_"Let them come," I snap, earning a shudder from his narrow body. "If it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll get. I'll not have him leave until this sand is stained with his blood."_

_"You don't understand," he protests, taking my hand in both of his. "They come bearing spells to freeze you in time and bring you to Archades. I know what my brother has done, but I respect him, and I beg you to do the same for my wishes. I fear a fate far worse than death awaits you if they find you here."_

_"I'm not afraid of their damned magic," I shake my head, scowling. His face falls a bit farther._

_"Shera, I beg of you..."_

_"Shae." I force myself to meet his icy blue eyes. "Call me Shae, Larsa. I am not the Shera you once knew. Shera was fooled, tread upon, weak. I'm no longer those things. So please, call me Shae."_

_"Shae," he starts. The name is unfamiliar on his tongue, sounding odd to both of us. He continues without hesitation. "Listen to me! They come to bring harm to you and your friend. That harm, no doubt, will not end promptly. If you will not do it for yourself, if you will not do it for me, then please, do it for your partner."_

_"Don't bring him into this," I practically snarl, ripping my hand away from his. "Don't try to manipulate me like **he**  did." His eyes grow stormy._

_"Why is this so difficult?" he demands. "Run, Shae! Run and hide! It's the only thing you're good for!" His fists are clenched at his sides. "You ran and left me alone in the midst of chaos. You ran with no thought. I ran as well, but to save you, not to let death come to you with weapons bared and shields raised." Larsa, the young boy of ten years, of especially dark hair, of sharp blue eyes, throws a finger out to the side, emphasizing his point clearly. "So run! Take my request as you will—a brother to a sister, a prince to a princess, one friend to another—and run!"_

_"I won't," I huff, pulling my dagger free. "How much time do I have until they arrive?"_

_"Shera..."_

_"How much time, Larsa?"_

_"I apologize for interrupting, but I do believe neither of you are getting anywhere." Dern steps out of the cloak, arms crossed over his loose brown shirt._

_"How long were you there?" I demand, glaring daggers into his eyes. He shrugs, staring back steadily._

_"Since you stepped outside." Ignoring my protests, he turns to face a weary Larsa. "I understand you're her younger brother. Good; I've heard a lot about you. Splendid things, of course." Dern sighs, reaching a hand up to comb his hands through his thick, sun-bleached brown hair. "I heard what you said, and **unfortunately** , I agree with you."_

_"Dern!" I huff, shoving at his shoulder. "Go inside. This isn't your fight."_

_"It isn't?" he raises an eyebrow. "As I recall, the men are coming to retrieve both of us. This ship belongs to me and to you. And I suppose you already know my purpose in the grand scheme of things—keeping you out of dire situations caused by your **probable**  idiocy."_

_Sighing, he shakes his head, reaching out to grasp my arm. "Listen to your brother. He possesses insider information we don't have. He knows the true danger you pretend to know full well. I... cannot deny that your idea sounds much more enticing to me. However, it is not probable." He nods towards the ship. "She can take a night on the run, though I don't know if the cloak will run while we fly. It's merely the first draft."_

_"Please," Larsa whimpers, hugging himself to save his body heat in this cold breeze of nighttime._

_"I've waited years to prove Vayne a fool," I growl, turning sharply on my heels. "Larsa, know that I'm only doing this for you. But know, too, that Vayne will fail you despite his admiration. He admired me once and then he used me for his filthy plans." I feel my hands balling up and I can't stop it. My teeth are clenched and my throat is tight._

_"Larsa, if he ever... If he ever causes you that pain... Run for help. Don't run to hide. You and I are **very**  different. I fear, you endure. I'll run, just like always. Go home; I'll see you another day."_

_"Soon?"_

_"Go home, Larsa."_

_"Be safe," he nods, watching my back as I head back toward the invisibility of my ship. Even when he can't see me, he knows I'm there listening. "I've grown much since you left; I can handle our elder brother. Best wishes to you, Shera."_

"How the bloody hell—?!" I demand, barely catching my breath as I reach up to tug on my hair. "Vaan, you absolute, ignorant little—"

"Calm down," Basch cuts in, setting Larsa down on the ground beside where Penelo's fallen to catch her breath. Ashe sighs, swiping her bangs off her sweaty forehead. Fran paces away from the group, though I can feel the anger radiating from her. Balthier sighs, running a hand through his hair and Vaan sheepishly searches for an excuse for his actions. "We survived."

"Yeah?" I snap, glowering at the knight. "And Larsa nearly lost his head. Fran's bow was thrown into the thick of that  _abyss_ of a jungle and Penelo was almost torn in half!"

"I wasn't trying to—!" Vaan starts, protesting.

"You damn well nearly got us all killed!" I shout, flicking dripping blood off the end of my fingertips from a slice down the length of my forearm. "When we say  _run,_ we mean  _run_. Not 'steal Fran's bow and try to play hero by throwing a helpless boy on the ground and firing arrows like a madman!'"

"I just thought I could help," he huffs, plopping onto the ground bitterly. "Larsa lost his sword, too."

"I  _know!_ "

"Calm down," Basch repeats. Fuming, I turn with the intention to beat him into the mud. Balthier huffs, gripping my shoulder and tugging.

"This is utter nonsense, Shae. Grow up." Ignoring my scowl, he looks around at the group. "Well, I doubt they sell weapons in Bur-Omisace."

"They don't," I grumble. Three pairs of eyes stare hard and I shrug. "I mean, why would they? They probably make them only for the refugees..." Seeing that I'm digging myself into a hole, I just take a deep breath and shake my head, trailing off.

"Do you plan on going back in?" Ashe asks, stepping up. "You'd be mad!"

"We can't have a defenseless Fran, now can we?" Balthier counters. Fran shoots him a steady glare over her shoulder. "Fine, not defenseless, but not nearly as powerful just the same. Happy?" She doesn't reply, turning back to the night sky. "Somehow, Vaan killed all those things—with some help. I'll be fine."

"I can't have you going back alone," Basch says firmly, shaking his head.

"But you've gotta watch Ashe," Vaan protests, jumping to his face. "I'll—!"

"Absolutely not," Balthier cuts him off, arms crossed. "No."

"But...!"

"No."

"Then take Shae," Ashe replies, her patience wearing thin. "We'll make camp and you two can retrieve the lost weapons."

"Why me?!" I demand, stomping a foot like an angered toddler.

"I suppose you could lend your spear to Fran," Balthier mutters.

"No."

"Well, there we are." He nods toward the jungle and starts back toward the dim lamps and heavy greenery. "Let's get on with it."

"Don't strangle him," Vaan grumbles, falling back to the ground.

"No promises," I huff, hurrying to catch up. Balthier rests his gun on his shoulder and saunters along as if he's got nothing better to do than take an evening stroll. I roll my eyes, clutching my spear and walking up at his side. "You're certainly dead-set on suicide."

"If there was to be bloodshed, I'd have brought Vaan along," he replies simply, raising an eyebrow at me. "These weapons shouldn't be far."

"We were running for a long time," I point out, though I scan the greenery as hard as I possibly can in search of a silver bow and a sharp sword. "How much ground do you think we covered?"

"Hard to tell," he shrugs, looking up at the foliage blocking the sky. "Must you talk so much?"

"Fine, I'll live in complete silence from here on out," I scoff.

"That would be desirable."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Ah-ah-ah," he chides, shaking his head. "You've already broken."

"Are you even looking?" I demand. Wordlessly, he trails off the path and fishes in a bush. I pause on the path, hands rested on my hips impatiently. Finally, I huff. "Balthier, there's nothing—"

"Here we are." The sky pirate straightens, lifting Fran's bow from the bush. Smugly, he turns to me and holds up the delicate curve of silver. "You were saying?"

"Damn you," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And Larsa's sword?"

"I'm no dog," he retorts, looping the bow over his shoulder. "We'll have to search like usual."

Sighing, I keep an ear out of monsters, though I doubt much will attack us as we're surrounded by the limp, bloody bodies of panther after panther. The black wildcats line the streets like Dalmascans after an Imperial execution.  _Too far?_

"I do believe I see a blade over there," Balthier says, breaking me from my thoughts. He nods toward a cluster of wilted flowers just ahead. I squint at the flower bed to see the thin outline of a narrow sword sticking up from the dark grass. Huffing, I start toward the weapon.

"Gods above, Balthier, how do you...?" I pull Larsa's sword free from the soil and turn back to see the pirate wandering off the path and into the jungle trees. "Balthier?" He merely spares me a glance before continuing into the trees and disappearing into the dark. Caught between following and heading back, I take a deep, exasperated breath and head after him. "Balthier!"

I spot the golds and greens of his vest in the dense wood, stomping through bushes and brush and weaving around tree trunks to catch up. The heat and the moisture gather in beads of sweat on my skin and draw biting bugs toward my flesh. Waving them away, I push past the final trees to find a cleared patch of grass. But that isn't what steals my breath away.

The patch of bright green grass leads to the edge of a short cliff, a drop falling down into a deep blue lake below, separated by clusters of lagoons and a long stretch of water leading out to the horizon. The moon hangs overhead as if illuminated by Fate's goodwill, shining onto the glittering waves below. At the edge of the lake resides a steep, sandy beach littered with driftwood and fireflies.  _What sort of oasis is **this?**_

"It's a nice little treasure, now isn't it?"

I turn to see Balthier leaning against a tree trunk nearby, staring out at the waves with a satisfied smile resting on his face. His gaze turns to me and I frown, looking back at the moon. Mesmerized by the light, I set Larsa's sword against a nearby log and stand closer to the edge. My right arm wraps around an extending branch of a tree at my side and I lean over the cliff, taking a deep breath.  _Saltwater. We're by the ocean?_

"How'd you know this was here?" I ask, not quite trusting Balthier enough to close my eyes as much as I wish I could.

"The smell, the light," Balthier shrugs, setting both his gun and Fran's bow aside. He eyes the spear I hold in my left hand. "Planning on killing anything anytime soon?"

"You never know," I retort, though I give in and toss it to the ground beside Larsa's sword. He stares at it the same way he did when he first saw me wield it, a curious look taking over his eyes.

"Where did you get it?"

"The spear?" I ask, raising an eyebrow when he comes to stand beside me on the edge. "Do you recognize it or something?"

"No," he shakes his head. I huff, sparing the moon another glimpse.

"I stole it some time ago. Not sure who it was, just saw it in the open and made it mine."

"Oddly enough, that strikes me as something you might do," he mutters, glancing at me. Scoffing, I eye his proximity to the edge of the cliff and shrug.

"I'm a pirate first, of course, but petty thievery is a hobby of mine."

"Petty? You stole a man's only defense."

"Who said it was a man? Anyway, I'm sure he had a knife or fork nearby." I grin, brushing the loose strands of hair out of my face.

"Fair enough. Though, I hope you can promise me something."

"Shoot," I reply, leaning back against the tree branch and crossing my arms.

"Never leave me with only silverware to defend myself against the weight of the world," he replies simply, his lips quirked up into a smug smile. I roll my eyes.

"I suppose I could strike that deal. A jammed gun's not worth much to me, anyway." He holds out his hand, raising an eyebrow. I raise mine back. "What, you want me to shake on it?" His smile only grows, gleaming like the earrings twisting from his ears. "Honestly," I huff, reaching out my hand and gripping his. "Happy?"

"Oh, very much so," he murmurs.

Frowning, I move to pull away only to suddenly be jerked to the side. I hardly have time to take a breath before I crash into the waves below the short cliff of twenty feet, spinning underwater uncontrollably. I can't tell which way is up, even when I force my eyes open. Panic bubbles up in my chest and a burst of air breaks through my lips. A crash echoes somewhere around me as I try to find air. Something grips my wrist; I fight back, gritting my teeth. A sudden tug has me breaching the surface and clinging to the nearest dry land.

Unfortunately, that "dry land" is a very soaked Balthier, giving me the most mock-laced laugh I've ever heard as I choke on water and gasp for air. I huff, punching his shoulder and untangling myself from him to try and stand. My feet don't touch the ground and my head goes under for half a second, leaving me choking again. Balthier chuckles, shaking his head.

"My apologies; it was wrong of me to assume you could swim."

"I  _can_ ," I snap, splashing a wave of the dark water over his head.

"Now, now," he admonishes, cocking his head to the side. "I've just saved your life again. A crumb, madam?"

"Seriously?" I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"You owe me two, actually," he recalls, reaching his hands up to slick his short hair back. His white sleeves are soaked, though I suppose he doesn't care about that anymore. "And so, I have two questions. First, what is the name of your ship?"

" _That's_ what you want to know?" I counter incredulously. "Fine. She's the  _Castean._ "

"Castean," he repeats, eyes narrowed on something in the distance. "Interesting choice. Second, the name of your partner."

"Dern," I reply. "Larsa told you so."

"You're certain that's all? No surname?" he asks, his brows drawing together.

"No surname," I frown. "Why's it matter so much?"

"It doesn't," he sighs, finally looking back at me. "I was hoping your clues would make deciphering easier, not more difficult."  _He's lying._

"My most  _sincere_ apologies," I sneer. He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't have time to react when I dive forward and shove him underneath the water, laughing. Roughly, I drag him back up, the pirate coughing and shoving me away as I snicker until my sides hurt. "It's  _wonderful_ to see the leading man so unkempt," I tease, swimming past him to shallower water I can stand in. Huffing, he follows, pushing his hair back with one hand. "Oh, and I do believe you owe me a crumb—for saving your life just now. I won't even count your rescue from that treant earlier."

"Cheap," he comments, shaking his head in mock disapproval, though he waits for my question patiently.

"How about _your_ surname?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.

"I don't have one," he replies smoothly. "Left it in favor of simpler titles. You don't see me demanding more names from you."

"You would if you could."

"You're not wrong."

I scoff, giving him another weak splash.

"I hate to be redundant, but I have to ask again: why are you so intent on learning all it is I left behind?"

"I find stories intriguing," he shrugs easily, green eyes glittering in the moonlight. "Whether or not they're fiction, it doesn't matter to me."

"Are you implying that I've lied?" I accuse, pushing my drenched hair out of my face and stepping closer. "Because you haven't exactly been honest yourself."

"It's difficult to build friendships and alliances off of lies," he points out. I scoff.

"Friendships, huh? Is that what you call trying to kill me by throwing me off a cliff?"

"To be fair, I threw  _myself_ off that very same cliff."

"Fair?" I raise an eyebrow, shuffling my feet across the heavy sand below them to slide past him. "I'd hardly call you—" I'm cut off as the lake floor drops off suddenly and leaves me spewing water from my mouth and yet again clinging onto the nearest piece of land, aka, Balthier. He laughs, though the heavy weight of his arms at the base of my back isn't unwelcome as I unintentionally cling to his shoulders. "For Fate's sake...!" I spit a dried leaf from my mouth and shake my head. "I'll drown before we get back." I frown, looking at the shore. Absently, my fingers trace over the pattern embroidered on his vest. "Speaking of which, won't the others be worried by now?"

"Who knows how deep we had to venture?"

It's an innocent enough question, simple and harmless. But the sudden realization of our proximity has my nerves jumping at every rumble from his voice that vibrates through my fingertips and elbows and knees, all of which are locked on him somewhere _._ My breath catches and I turn to see his eyes level with mine. A small wave pushes pass and neither one of us can fight the instinct to tighten our grip.

A trance swallows me like the water and my mind tries to play out what might happen if I just broke that inch of distance between us, if I moved closer and took that invitation written clear across those smug-smiling lips. What would he do in turn? Perhaps that's the key to all those mysteries lurking beneath his tanned skin... The fan of breath over my face combined with the chill of the air slaps me in the face and knocks me out of that trance. Coughing awkwardly, I push away and move to swim toward the shore.

"I think they'd be worried regardless."

"You think they care that much?" Balthier counters easily, wading behind me. "About  _you_?"

"Aren't you flattering?"  _Did that not take as long as I thought it did?_ I frown, shaking my head.  _Don't dig yourself into any more holes, Shae. It was an impulse and you resisted it. Get on with your life._

"Have you considered your own failed charm recently?" he retorts. I roll my eyes, searching for something to bite back in return only find myself clumsily clambering over unforeseen rocks. Sighing, Balthier moves forward and his hands warm my waist as he tugs me back from the wall of slippery stones. "I'm beginning to wonder... What  _is_  the going rate for rescuing princesses these days?" My heart catches in my throat and my mind surges forward at a hundred miles an hour.  _Did he hear me talking to Larsa in Jahara? How can he possibly know...?_ "I think rescuing damsels in distress may be worth just about half that amount."

"I'm no  _damsel_ ," I huff, shoving his shoulder-relieved. I pry myself away from his grasp and drag myself up onto the sand. Groaning, I shake the water from my boots and from the armor fastened around my forearm. "I swear to the gods, Balthier, if this rusts because of you, I'll most definitely be leaving you stranded with silverware alone."

"Why not unhook it and let it dry to reduce the moisture, then?" he counters, carefully wringing water from his shirt. He sighs. "I was due for a new wardrobe at any rate."

"You chose to shove me," I point out, stepping past him. "Now, let's get those weapons and head back to camp."

The walk back is slow and full of casual, light banter. Balthier keeps an eye out for monsters and I struggle to hide the horrified blush that has yet to drain from my cheeks. Finally, I take a deep breath and decide to let my naturally flirtatious ways get the better of me. Conversation falls and I take a deep breath just as we draw near to the others and I can hear their fire popping. I heave a sigh, catching the sky pirate's attention.

"You know, I've been thinking about what you said."

"What thing that I've said?"

"About the going rate for princesses and damsels," I shrug, feigning nonchalance. My walk slows to a pause and his does too, his eyebrow raised expectantly. "You said a damsel's would be half of a princess's, yes?"

"You know something then?" he replies, his voice laced with curious amusement.

"Perhaps," I grin, cocking my head to the side and clasping my hands behind my back. "Close your eyes."

"Excuse me?" he raises an eyebrow. "Is this because I threw you off a cliff? I thought you had  _fun."_

"I won't  _hurt_ you," I huff. He eyes me a moment longer before complying. Fighting a laugh, I shake my head and press my lips to the edge of his jaw, drawing away at just the right angle that leaves the tips of our noses brushing before I straighten and continue my walk toward camp with a triumphant smile crossing my reddened face. Balthier chuckles, shaking his head and following me.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to have a chat with  _Ashelia_ later, won't I?"

And although it's completely and utterly unnecessary, I throw my head back and laugh. 


	27. Mount Bur-Omisace

The air is filled with a bitter chill that’s all too familiar to my skin, bringing back flashes of chocobos and a young Dern and an even younger Jonan. Vaan and Penelo look absolutely miserable, hunched together and shivering against the freezing wind. I don’t understand how Fran hasn’t frozen completely in that tiny metal armor of hers. Even Ashe is shuddering, white snowflakes caught in her fair hair and battle-worn clothing. I shiver, hugging my arms closer to my body and hiding my face behind my hair to avoid the stinging wind.

“Are we ever g-gonna get th-there?” Vaan forces out, his eyes practically pleading Ashe for warmth. The princess sighs.

“I have no way of knowing,” she replies, hiding a shiver. “The men at the entrance to the Rift told us to go this way.”

“Northeast,” I nod, sniffling. “To the south is the  _real_ Rift. Piles of bones and even worse chills.” Huffing, I turn to Balthier’s viera partner. “How are  _you_ not freezing?!”

“I do not feel the cold as you do,” she answers calmly, her ear twitching. “That is not to say I do not feel it at all, but it is not quite as harsh on my skin as it is on a hume’s.”

“Balthier’s the only one dressed for the occasion, it seems,” Basch mutters, glancing back at the pirate. Balthier merely replies with a slight smile, scanning the snowy hills with his gun rested on his shoulder. I drag myself over to Larsa’s side, teeth chattering and lips blue.

“How are you holding up?”

“It’s quite cold,” he shudders, shaking his head. “But I can’t complain. At least  _my_ clothes don’t have holes.”

“They serve a purpose,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “I’m used to the  _desert,_  remember?”

"What  _purpose_?"

Conversation halts when we come to an upward slope, pausing upon seeing half-clothed, limping, bloodied refugees dragging themselves up the slippery, steep, snowy path as if it’s their last hope. In these times, it probably is. Balthier sighs, resting his hands on his hips. Larsa and I stop in front of him, my stomach churning as a woman wails unabashedly, clutching her limp child to her chest with blue fingers.

“Empires parade down city streets, while refugees walk barefoot through the snow,” Balthier murmurs. 

Larsa turns toward the pirate, his words coming as sharp as the wind.

“And so I sue for  _peace_ to stop short war and ease their suffering. My father will choose peace.”  _But will he once Vayne’s dagger has been pressed to his back? Vayne pulls the strings behind it all—despite Larsa’s faith._

“Will he now?” Balthier fires back. “You sound sure of yourself.” His green eyes fall dark, his face drained as he passes by stiffly. “You can never know another, not even your own father.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter, shaking my head. Larsa frowns, brows pinched together as he stares out at the darkened horizon. Vaan comes up on his other side.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, okay?”

Larsa says nothing, his pale blue eyes falling to the snow. I sigh, motioning for Vaan to leave before kneeling in the snow and taking hold of my brother’s shoulders.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s undoubtedly had some troubles that drove him to piracy, just as I did. Have some faith in Father; he’ll do what’s right, I’m sure of it.”

“And suppose he doesn’t?” Larsa asks quietly, finally looking at me. “Suppose Vayne truly does fail me once and for all as you’ve said far too many times?” I press my lips together, fighting shivers, and shake my head.

“No. The Senate will press for an immediate answer. There’s not much Vayne can do when Father’s locked away in a throne room with angry old men and women, now is there?” I give him a gentle shake by the shoulders and get to my feet. “It may not work out as smoothly as you’d like, but that’s the way life is nowadays. You’ve just got to stay determined and find your way.”

“I suppose I have been doing something right, then,” Larsa replies, his tone lighter as he forces a smile and starts to follow the rest of the group. “Shae… Who is it you find your allegiance with?” His brows pinch together as he thinks. “Lady Ashe or Archadia? Perhaps an Archadia without Vayne?”

“Neither,” I shrug. “I pledge no allegiance to either side and I’d prefer to stay as far away from a war party as possible. Now, we may be fighting the Empire, but should Ashe’s men come for me in the future, I won’t hesitate to fight back.”

“So you wouldn’t come back with me to Archades—once this is all over?” I frown, blinking a snowflake off of my eyelashes and sighing.

“I don’t know that I could so easily forfeit my freedom for any ruler’s dream.”

“Father doesn’t know that you live, not for sure any way.” Larsa reminds me. “Perhaps you could visit him one last time after the treaty is set into motion?”

“I’d rather not.”

“I see,” he sighs. “Well, I shan’t make us repeat Jahara. Let’s get to the Gran Kilitas.”

I nod, swallowing hard and forcing my legs to pick up the pace until I’m beside Vaan again. My very being dreads returning to the holy mountain and its holy priests and pilgrims. The place holds nothing more for me and I hold nothing but cold resentment for it. I’m sure its people feel the same. My last sights there were unpleasant, to be brief. I clutch my armored arm absently as my mind turns over old images and memories I once thought to bury six feet beneath the desert sand.

_~4 years before~_

_“This is ridiculous!” The angry nu mou paces back a forth across the carpet of the temple, hands clasped tightly behind his back and furry little feet padding across the floor. “I knew you were troublemakers!”_

_“Sir, you don’t understand…” Dern starts, stepping forward. The angry counselor before us swivels around to glare at him under bushy white brows._

_“I understand perfectly! Leaving for the life of piracy! Unconceivable!” He turns to see the wrinkled figure standing behind him. “Gran Kilitas, please! Your children wish to turn to lives of thievery and trouble that will surely raise great difficulties!” The Gran Kilitas makes no response, dreaming on._

_“We mean no harm,” I cut in, keeping my voice low and reassuring. “It’s only a dream of mine to see the world and all its majesty.”_

_“Lies!” he hisses. “Is that why you turned on your empire, ** **Lady****   ** **Solidor****? Or have you already forgotten?”_

_“Have you forgotten the horrors my own ** **brother**** put into play?” I counter, fists balled at my sides tightly. “Of course I turned! You would have me help lead an empire conquering with deceit and bloody warfare over a life of exploration?” I step toward him, cocking my head to my side. “Is your heart truly so filled with  ** **hatred****? Perhaps you should be replaced, Malachaius.” Dern hushes me, pulling me back by my elbow and resting a hand at the base of my back gently._

_“ ** **Puta**** ,” the nu mou hisses; I don’t think I can glower any harder. “You both come here, spend two years disobeying our decrees and wandering off together—suspiciously, if I might add. If I do recall, Dern, your companion is  ** **far**** younger than you.”_

_“It’s… not like that,” Dern shakes his head, grimacing._

_“It’s three years,” I grumble._

_“And it’s unacceptable!”_

_“We’re ** **friends****! He saved my damn life, you rat!” I yell, shoving Dern away from me as he tries to calm me down._

_“A life that may have been better off left in a snow drift,” the priest snarls, turning on his heels and holding a lightly furred hand in the air. “Take them to the cells below. I have no need for their trouble tonight.”_

_“Malachaius!” I scream, rage burning in my chest like a wildfire. The nu mou ignores me, toddling on his way. A towering man in rough robes grabs my arms, holding them tightly behind my back. Gritting my teeth, I struggle against his hold._

_“Shae!” Dern calls, staring hard at me. “Please; you’ll only make this more difficult.”_

_“That’s my specialty,” I hiss, feeling cold metal starting to slip over my wrists. Refusing to back down, I shoot my friend a sharp look. “Dern, I think we should have a ** **bonfire**** tonight,” I grit, my voice low. He raises an eyebrow and I nod._

_Simultaneously, we turn on our guards. I kick the man restraining me backward onto the ground. He shields his face; I stomp on his crotch. Howling, he pulls his hands away from his head just long enough for me to slam the pointed heel of my boot into his forehead, knocking him out. Turning to the right, I see that Dern’s just finished dispatching the man who stopped him._

_“Sorry, Gran Kilitas,” I mutter, gathering up the jewels and precious metals laid out as tokens to the gods. Dern takes out a dagger and digs into an ornate column, fishing out the odd small jewel here and there. With my pockets full of riches, I run back toward Dern, tugging his elbow and dragging him after me._

_“Calm down,” he murmurs, pulling me to a stop. “We run out there, everyone’s gonna get suspicious.” The patter of feet behind us freezes us in place._

_“Seize them!” Malachaius screams, waving a white-furred finger at us. Several guards start running and so do we._

_“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” I call over my shoulder. Dern throws back his head and gives a hearty laugh. He pulls his tall lance free, blocking an attack from a refugee and shoving the off-balance pursuer to the ground. “Where do we go?” I demand, ducking around a sword-swinging boy._

_“Only one way down unless we jump!”_

_“Better get your fat ass through, then!”_

_“Nice to know you care, Sweetheart,” he laughs, catching up to my side. Three guards block the way off the mountain’s peak. ** **Since when was this place a military zone?****  He blocks an attack from one swordsman and I’m forced to stand behind him. Everyone else, from nu mou to bangaa to hume, is quickly catching up, weapons bared._

_“Dern?” I huff, backing up so far my back is practically pressed to his. The three guards are teaming up on him, hitting him from all angles. There’s a split second when I see a stream of flames shooting from the palm of a hobbling nu mou. Then I’m screaming incoherent words, clutching my arm only to tear my hand away, feeling my flesh burn and boil. Dern’s quick to beat the fire away, kneeling on the ground beside me. I shove him away, jerking his spear free from his grasp._

_“Shae!”_

_“Should’ve let us go, you poor sot,” I growl, piercing the midsection of the first guard’s thin armor. With a strangled cry he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to the growing stain on his shirt. In midst of the chaos, I drag Dern after me and we run past the other two stunned guards._

_“Thanks,” he breathes, catching the spear I toss back to him. “Don’t stop!”_

_There’s practically no one on our heels. My left arm screams in pain, blistered and burned beyond repair. The cold is bitter, icy. By the time we leap across the slippery icebergs and cross the freezing river, we’re laughing as loudly as we can. We don’t care if the monsters hear us; we’re finally free to do whatever the hell it is we want to do._

_“First things first, we sell all this,” Dern starts, patting his jingling pockets. A light fog begins to settle, but we pay it no mind. “Then we pick up a nice ship—nothing too fancy or set in stone. I want you to be able to draw out some plans for her.”_

_“I’ve already started imagining the possibilities,” I grin. He glances at me, his gaze heavy and warm._

_“But even before that, we fix your arm up. That fire ruined your sleeve, too.”_

_“Forget the sleeve,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “I’ll cover the scars once it’s healed enough. No use in drawing attention to ourselves, hm?”_

_“I suppose.” He sighs, stretching his arms over his head._ _“You and me, Shae. We’re going to change what Ivalice thinks of sky pirates forever. Deal?”_

_“A most definite one,” I laugh, nodding._

_Though the night fog may be blinding and the stars can’t shine through the clouds to lead us, Dern will guide my walk down the correct path. I’m sure of it._


	28. Confronting the Past

The dirt path leading up to the refugee camp has me shaking more than the cold winds of the frozen rift. My heart pounds relentlessly in my chest and my fingers twist into the orange material tied about my hips to hide their trembling. It’s an unspoken rule that I’m not allowed here any longer. Murder generally constitutes at  _least_ a ban.

Once we break past the stone walls of the mountains towering on either side of us and enter the refuge of the holy mountain, I’m nearly drowning in nostalgia. There are far more people lying about without shoes or proper clothing or signs of happiness glistening in their eyes. The very same white tent that housed the soup pots and fresh vegetables when I stayed here is more of a market with its wooden bins and table stands. A pair of seeq stands at the side of the tent, conversing in low voices. Pilgrims stroll about in their customary robes and children run around laughing. It’s a place of peace in the midst of a war. Or so they would have you think.

We head further down the path and I stick to the back, hiding behind my hair and pretending nothing’s amiss all at once. Young boys run the stands of random assortments they’ve created to earn money. I fight a painful smile, remember the stones Dern used to carve into and polish. They were simple little things, but he enjoyed making them and the pilgrims could never get enough of the mysterious swirls and dips carved into their surfaces, reading them as religious symbols when really they were mere scribbles. 

The sun peaks around a bend in the path and finally beams down fully on our heads. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the oh-so familiar air; soon afterward, I swallow the lump in my throat and blink away the pools gathering in my eyes. As I look around all I can see is a tanned young man who could never seem to find an excuse to wear a shirt, whose thick brunette hair was pulled this way and that by the wind, and whose best friend was a simple runaway princess who wanted nothing more than to spread her wings and fly, even if it meant taking a leap of faith off the edge of the mountain. All I see is a pair of wistful children who thought they’d found the secret to happiness. 

The people no doubt stare as a group of battle worn, haggard fighters drags themselves through the accumulating village. Tents stand over nearly every piece of ground, holding more than one family apiece. I doubt my old tent is there, not because it’s old, but because old Malachaius would think it defiled.  _No, we never defiled the bloody tent. That was reserved for the ** **Castean****. _ I fight a bitter laugh.  _Too far?_ Though it’s been four long years, I’m surprised to see no one I recognize thus far. As the temple draws closer on the horizon, however, I begin to fear that may not always be the case.

“This place is certainly impressive,” Basch breathes, looking up at the towering, square buildings. I nod, ducking my head as a nu mou waddles past.

“Yeah,” Vaan laughs, earning a few gentle smiles and confused stares from acolytes and pilgrims.

“Let’s hope the Gran Kiltias will be prepared to speak with us,” Larsa says, holding his chin high and resting the heel of his hand against the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip.

“I promise to keep my fingers crossed,” Penelo nods, her pigtails bouncing with every cheerful step she takes.

The stairs leading up to the temple’s entrance have my stomach twisted in knots. Fran eyes me curiously for a split second before facing forward yet again. I huff, hugging my arms to my body anxiously and forcing my legs to continue up the steps mechanically. As Ashe’s fingertips brush the surface of the door, I feel all the blood drain from my face. Suddenly wrecked with weakness and inability to face my failures, I stumble back from the group. Fran raises an eyebrow, gaining the attention of the others.

“I’m not quite feeling myself,” I force out, pressing my back to the wall tightly.

“Yeah, you’re looking pretty pale,” Vaan points out, frowning. “Everything alright?”

“You  _have_ been acting strangely,” Penelo adds.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, turning my eyes to the humes wandering the upper levels of the holy mountain’s grand temple. Several pairs of eyes are turned on us, even more fingers directing themselves in our direction. The acolytes and pilgrims and elders converse in low whispers and I can’t help but feel overcome by nausea.

“Shae?” Ashe breaks me from my thoughts, frowning.

“On s-second thought,” I reply sharply, immediately facing her upon seeing three guards in heavy armor walk past. “I’ll join you. Let’s get a move on! I’m feeling better already!”

“Let’s,” Larsa nods, motioning for Ashe to open the door. She complies slowly. Balthier does nothing to ease my suffering by leaning down toward my ear.

“You keep this up and we’ll have the whole place questioning your sanity.”

“They’ll do more than question me,” I mumble, though I do nothing to elaborate when his eyebrows furrow. My heart stops and my feet hesitate as I recognize the first two guards at the entryway. I try to drown myself out between Fran and Basch, but I suppose people shorter than two feet can easily see between legs from below.

“Stop this very  _instant!”_ I cringe, my feet obeying immediately though my heart screams for me to run and hide. _Shit_ _._ “Just what do  _you_ think you’re doing here?!”

“Just… On a mission to create peace,” I reply, my voice much higher pitched than usual. The others pause, turning to stare at me with deep-set confusion. “What have you been up to?”

“Don’t feed me that!” I wince when the nu mou’s sharp toed foot strikes against my shin. “You know you’re not allowed back here.  _Ever!_ ”

“It was never directly stated,” I point out uneasily.

“Have you no shame?! How  _dare_ you return to this place after all you have done?!” I finally turn to fully face the robed elder.

“I assure you, Malachaius, I won't bring trouble this time. I no longer posses any…  _liabilities_ toward any choice of good will.”

“ _Nonsense_ ,” he hisses, narrowing his dark eyes and tugging at his mustache. “You steal our sacred jewels, you defile our living spaces, and you  _kill_ our people.  _Leave_ this instant or I shall have you  _all_ removed!”

“Honestly,” I sigh, dropping onto one knee to reach his level easier. “It wasn’t  _that_ bad. Nothing bad will happen to you, your people, or your temple.”

“Not that bad?” he repeats incredulously. He motions toward the group standing behind me. “Do you, my children, know who you associate yourselves with?!” My eyes fall to the velvety carpet and I press my lips together, frantically searching for a coverup. The nu mou bursts into wheezy laughter. “You don’t! Lord Larsa, would you care to explain? No?”

“ _Malachaius_ ,” I snap, glaring daggers into his eyes. He scoffs, scowling right back.

“You say you participated in nothing of the rotten sort? If that is so, why not remove that armor from your wrist,  _puta?_ You’re obviously not….” He scans over my outfit and crinkles his nose. “ _Shy_ to show your skin. So,  _puta,_ why hide your left arm?” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stand stiffly.

“ _Puta?”_ Vaan mutters, nudging Basch. “What’s that?” The knight sighs.

“I believe he means to call her a whore, Vaan.”

“… Oh.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Larsa cuts in, stepping forward and taking hold of my wrist. “We have business with the Kiltias, whether you like it or not. After this treaty is in place, the war would be settled and less would be drawn here by suffering. Is that not what you want?”

“How convenient for her lit—” Malachaius starts, eyes narrowed.

“Excuse us,” Larsa repeats sharply, pulling me back toward the party.

Clenching and unclenching my fists, I take a deep breath and ignore the curious stares directed at me from all angles. Ashe especially seems utter lost and her eyes demand answers, but her lips remain sealed as she turns back to her primary focus. As per usual, I keep myself in the back.

The Gran Kiltias stands as always, eyes shut on a wrinkled plane of dark flesh and long snow-white hair. Larsa and Ashe stand before him in complete silence, and if I hadn’t just been rebuked by my past, I might’ve found it uncomfortable. Vaan frowns, leaning over to Penelo.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Shh!” Ashe hushes him sharply.

“No, my child. I do not sleep.” A deep, clear voice echoes throughout the temple. The stunned faces of the others nearly make me laugh. Only Basch and Balthier appear unaffected. “I dream. For reality and illusion are a duality, two parts of a whole. Only the mirror of dreams reflects what is true.” Ashe steps forth, eager to move on with the process.

“Anastasis, Your Grace, I am Ashelia—”

“Lay down your words. Ashelia, daughter of Raminas. I have dreamt your dream. Who better to carry on the Dalmascan line than she who bears the Dawn Shard? Your dream of a kingdom restored is known to me.” Larsa steps forward now, a strong determination overtaking his face.

“Gran Kiltias, then give us your blessing. Grant the Lady Ashe her ascension—”

“I do not suppose this is something you might… reconsider?” A man’s voice coming from just behind me startles me. His words are laced with a thick accent, his hair as black as the night sky, tinged with violet, and his skin dark to match. Everything else about him… it’s utter flamboyancy. The man weaves his way past us and stops before Larsa. “My little emperor-in-waiting. You called and I have come.” Larsa reaches out his hand to shake, only to have his hair ruffled by the strange man in dark glasses.

“This is the man I wanted you to meet,” Larsa says, motioning toward our guest and facing Ashe. “Believe it or not, he is a member of the noble House Margrace, rulers of the Rozzarian Empire.” The man scratches at his dark chest hair and paces toward the princess.

“I am but one of very, very many. Try as I might, I could not stop this war alone, thus I came seeking Larsa’s assistance.” Dramatically, he pulls his glasses off and whips his hair out of his face. A pale-faced woman that came with him takes the glasses immediately, tucking them into the top of her laced shirt. I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Al-Cid Margrace, at your service. To think I stand before the Lady Ashe. It is truly an honor.” He kneels and kisses the back of Ashe’s hand, Penelo gasping and clasping a hand over her mouth. “I see it is true after all. Ah, stunning is the Dalmasca’s desert bloom.” It’s Balthier’s turn to roll his eyes. Larsa sighs.

“In Archadia, Larsa. In Rozzaria, Al-Cid,” the Kiltias says, his voice booming through the temple once again. “They dream not of war. Should empire join with empire, the way will open for a new Ivalice in our time.”

“Hah!” Al-Cid laughs. “Gran Kiltias! You speak much of dreams. But in the real world, war is upon us.” Ashe turns away from the Rozzarian to face the Kiltias.

“Gran Kiltias, I was told my coming here would prevent this war. I was to assume my father’s throne and announce the restoration of Dalmasca, treat with the Empire for peace, and persuade the Resistance to stay their hand. I have not come all this way to be asked to reconsider!” I sigh, shaking my head.  _That girl and her obsession with reclaiming her throne._

“A word from you and the Resistance would stop cold,” Al-Cid points out. “And Rozzaria’s pretext for joining the war… scattered, off to the four winds. This was what we had hoped. Alas, circumstances change. A full two years have passed since your reported death. Were it to become known you were still alive, I fear it could only worsen our current situation.”

“Because I am powerless to help,” Ashe argues, stepping up to the Rozzarian’s face.

“Nay, in fact, it has little to do with you,” Al-Cid shakes his head.

“Then what?” Larsa demands. “If Lady Ashe were to extend her hand in friendship, perhaps I could then persuade the Emperor. His Excellency will solve things peacefully—”

“The Emperor Gramis is no more.” My heart catches in my throat and the color drains from Larsa’s face. “His life was taken.”

“Father!” Larsa whispers, pale eyes wide.

My hands pull into fists so tight that my nails leave deep marks in my palms.  _Vayne._ My younger brother’s face doesn’t change at all, frozen in stunned silence as his plans crash and burn before his very eyes. Swallowing hard, I brush past Fran and Basch and pull the boy into my arms, holding him to my chest tightly. His fingers barely find a hold on the back of my shirt, his eyes staring into nothing.

“Let us suppose you approach the Empire with a peaceful resolution,” Al-Cid continues. “The late Emperor Gramis would have lent you his ear, that much is certain. But we are dealing with Vayne Solidor. Should the Princess return, he would claim her an imposter. All to tempt the Resistance into battle. Vayne wants war, that much is certain.” Larsa’s grip tightens in a sudden twitch. “As our ill luck would have it, the man is a military genius.”

“A twisted bastard, more like,” I snap, glaring at the Rozzarian envoy. “He wants no more suffering and bloodshed.”

“The dreams have told me thus,” the Kiltias cuts in. “To reveal yourself would imperil us all. I see war, and Vayne’s name writ bold on history’s page.”

“Archadia’s banners fly high. They are making ready for the coming war.” The woman at Al-Cid’s side hands him a folded paper. “According to our latest reports, the Western Armada prepares for war, under Vayne’s command no less. The newly formed Twelfth Fleet has already been deployed. The Imperial First Fleet stands ready. They’ll be underway as soon as the  _Odin’s_ refit is complete.” He waves the paper around as he talks, the weight of his words settling heavy over the room. “And there is more: the Second Kerwon Expeditionary Force is being called in to replace the missing Eighth, so there will be no gaps. The largest force ever seen!” He finishes his words with a shout, folding the paper back up abruptly.

“And then…” Ashe breathes. “The nethicite is the coup de grace.” Al-Cd nods and the princess turns to face the Kiltias. I run a hand down Larsa’s hair, smoothing it absently as the conversation blurs past at record speed. All military speech meant to drive fear into our hearts. Long story short, Vayne is not holding back this time. The world  _will_ be his.

“Gran Kiltias, Your Grace. I spoke to you of my succession. Let us put that aside. Should I become Queen of Dalmasca now, powerless as I am, I can protect nothing. With a greater power at my disposal, perhaps then.”

“It is the nethicite of which you dream?”

“I require something far greater.”

The Kiltias’s eyes fly open unexpectedly and his lips part for the first time since we’ve arrived. I take a deep breath, his deep voice rumbling through my chest.

“To wield power against power. Truly the words of a hume-child.”

“I am descended from the Dynast-King himself.”

“Indeed. Then you have but one choice. Seek you the other power Raithwall left.”

“Does such a thing exist?” Ashe asks, frowning.

“Journey across the Paramina Rift to the Stilshrine of Miriam. There rests the gift he entrusted to the Gran Kiltias of his time. Seek it out. The Sword of Kings… can cut through nethicite. Why he would entrust the power to destroy nethicite, the instrument of his greatness, to another and not his own progeny, I cannot say. Awaken, Ashelia B’nargin, and take up your sword, or your dream will remain but a dream.”

Silently, Ashe turns on her heels and moves to leave the temple. She spares Larsa one last pitiful glance before continuing on her way. Basch immediately moves to follow the princess, eyes set dead ahead. The Kiltias closes his eyes and speaks once more.

“My dream, too, fades into day. House Solidor, however…” His eyes peel open and stare not at my brother but at me, chilling me to bone. “Is far from its end.”

Larsa, with a strange sound freeing from his throat, rushes past the Kiltias and behind the expansive décor behind him. I sigh, shaking my head and turning to leave the temple. Malachaius keeps his mouth shut as I walk by, stunned into silence by the events that just took place. I push past the massive doors and stop at the end of the landing, my hands resting on the edge of the railing. It feels far too constrained and I have to hide a scoff. Quickening my pace, I hurry down a hidden set of stairs and jump down to the next ledge, a small landing that hangs out far from the rest of Bur-Omisace. A place Dern and I sat every evening.

I settle on the lip of the platform, dangling my feet over the edge into the expansive sky surrounding the mountainside. The evening sun heats my face and brings back all those days I spent out here, dreaming just like the Kiltias. Dreaming not of wars and rulers and solutions, but of freedom and flying and love. I close my eyes and picture that bright smile and the starfruits we used to share and the laughs we used to have. Childhood is long past now, but I wish I could return in the blink of an eye. Even if everything remained the same, I’d make each second count far more than it did before.

I don’t check to see who it is that’s joined me; I can tell by the footsteps that it’s two people I suppose I don’t mind too much. Vaan settles on my left and Balthier stands behind me, with his arms crossed, I imagine. Sighing, I peel my eyes open and return them to the gorgeous view. The boy at my side stares out into the golden clouds.

“This place… Does it hold some sort of special meaning to you?”

“Me and my partner…” I start, tracing a finger through the soft dirt. “We used to sit out here every night and watch the sunset, dreaming of what it would be like to run away and buy an airship. We found this place in our search for freedom, but we soon realized that leaving it was the price.”

“Did you know him before here?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I’ll just say I was in a bout of trouble in the Rift and he rescued me, brought me here to recover. One moment I was lying in the snow and the next a grinning buffoon was stealing my gil for  _compensation._ ” I allow a fond smile to spread across my face.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you were in trouble,” Balthier comments lightly, finally moving to sit on my other side. “Nor that you’ve  _always_ been the damsel.”

“Not  _always,_ ” I scoff, shoving my shoulder against his. Vaan laughs, running his hands through his hair and falling back on them to use them as a pillow on the hard ground.

“I believe you told me you and Larsa were merely business partners. So why the bond?” Balthier inquires, raising an eyebrow. I sigh, tugging at my pants uncomfortably as I form a quick sob story off the top of my head. “I… Once had a little brother. A witty little boy, to be sure, but smart as ever. When I met Larsa, all I could think of was that smiling child I’d lost all those years before…” I shake my head. “That’s why. He accepts it either way, perhaps even sees me as a close friend of his, at best.”

“I’ll say,” Vaan scoffs, crossing one ankle over his lifted knee. “You two are both pretty tough nuts to crack.” Restless, he sits up and lets his feet dangle over the edge. “Y’know, I hate to keep bringing this up, but you still haven’t told me what happened to your partner.”

“That’s a story for another day,” I murmur, resting my head on his shoulder. “Until then, you and Balthier can try to piece me together.”

“Oh, trust me,” Balthier yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m only one step away, darling.”


	29. Realization Dawning

_~2 years before (Larsa visit cont.)~_

_I leave quickly, feeling tears of frustration prick at my eyes, and hurry for the cockpit. The **Castean** 's whirring purr starts up easily. I trust that Dern's shut the door upon hearing heavy footsteps in the open doorframe of the control center._

_"Are you alright?"_

_"Just dandy," I breathe, feeling my ship's power build up in her powerful engine. Slowly, we rise from the ground, gaining height before rushing forward smoothly, surging into the unknown. Even though it's soon smooth sailing, I don't switch the controls to autopilot, keeping my exhausted eyes locked on the glass of the windshield. Dern hums, finally catching on and entering the cockpit. He picks up my sketchbook, settling in the seat beside me._

_"Button blends in, huh? Maybe you just need your eyes checked, Sweetheart," he teases, his tone light. I make no response, watching his reflection sigh and sit in the seat beside me, his eyes locked on the book. "You have a good eye for detail." Nothing. I can't bring myself to speak, merely shutting my eyes. Silence fills the pit, save for the hum of the engine, and Dern keeps studying, thinking. Suddenly, I hear a chuckle as the page turns. "Well, this isn't an airship."_

_Frowning, I turn to see what he's talking about only to feel the blood rush to my face. It's a rough drawing of Dern's face, broken out in that infamous laugh that leaves crinkles at his eyes, dimples in his cheeks, and laugh lines creased around his pointed nose. I started solidifying the light lines days ago before giving up when I couldn't quite capture the swoop of his constantly lightening hair. The best part, however, is the perfect gleam in his eyes, those glittering green eyes that retain their life no matter what happens. Dern will smile on his death bed, cracking jokes about tomorrows that won't ever come. The drawing fades at the end of the broad muscles stretched across his shoulders, fading into a sharp collarbone._

_"Give that back," I grumble, reaching for the leather sketchbook. He holds it just out of my reach. "Dern—"_

_"I didn't know you drew outside layouts." He eyes the rough portrait curiously. "This is excellent, Shae. Why didn't you ever share it?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "What was the inspiration for this? Some ridiculous action on your part, no doubt."_

_"Dern."_

_"Honestly, Shae," he sighs, raising a single finger to silence me before he turns the page again. Another rough sketch, this time of Dern diving through the air, spear poised as his body twists to drive the lance into its target. His legs are drawn toward his chest, ready to absorb the impact of the approaching ground. Dern loves to fly, inside and outside of the airship. "What are you so ashamed about? These are **good**. Not much else for you to draw anyway."_

_"Dern, please just give it back," I plead._

_He raises an eyebrow and I can see it in his eyes—he's considering. Then the cheeky bastard grins and turns the page. The next is a self-portrait of sorts. Half of the picture, to the left, is my face now. Lightly freckled, darkened brows, long, loose hair hanging all out of the extraordinarily long braid that I sport currently. Something in my brown eyes is different—left me **knows**. My face is far more angular now. The comparison is stark; the right side is innocent. Wide eyes, ready to absorb all the world has to offer. My hair brushes over my shoulders, dark. Smooth skin pulls over round cheeks and beneath half-grown eyebrows. There's fresh pain in that face, but also youthful resilience._

_"Gods..." he breathes._

_My heart skips a beat and I hold my breath without realizing it as his finger traces over the edge of the drawing. Gray lead smudges the slightest bit beneath his touch, tracing a shadow across the cheekbone of the left side. Something changes in his demeanor. His lips part, his visible muscles tense, his eyes search the page for something he can't find._

_"Dern?"_

_"Huh?" He looks up at me sharply, though his eyes fall back to the page abruptly. "Sorry, Shae. It's just... I was remembering how much we really have changed since we met in that dirty old tent."_

_"How long's it been?" I ask more to myself than to him. "Around four years ago?"_

_"Only four years," he mutters, laughing. "It feels as though I've known you for centuries."_

_"I can assure you I feel the same," I sigh, watching nervously as he continues to look through the products of my occasional bored spell._

_Plans, layouts, portraits, landscapes, and even a still-life or two. After looking over a finished drawing of me and Larsa curled up on a loveseat under a blanket that's far too small (a younger, less deceptive Vayne reads us to sleep in the left corner), Dern flips back through the pages. The gust of wind it creates blows loose strands of hair out of my face, nearly making me regret leaning across the space between us to get a better look at what he sees, what he thinks._

_His praises are aplenty, obviously sincere, but I can't accept them. No, he doesn't know the bitter intentions behind each memory I copied down. He thinks he saved me, but I'm unsalvageable. I'm broken beyond repair until my bravado for grudges and destruction wears thin. It's going strong these days._

_Dern pauses on the same page that shocked him so the first time he laid eyes on the image. The two halves of my face are roughly shaded, a work that makes me cringe and leaves me itching for an eraser, a redo, but he doesn't seem to mind. I don't understand what has him so captured. He knew both versions he sees here. Maybe it's just odd seeing the young, fourteen-year-old me again. I clear my throat, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head._

_"Shae, I..." he huffs, shaking his head again as if he's erasing his words and crafting new ones haphazardly. "I remember knowing this side," he touches the right side gingerly, "and enjoying every moment. More than enjoying—relishing." He pauses, enamored with a false image of who I was and who I am. Who I'm supposed to be. "I remember, back then, finding you so beautiful and finding it odd. When you're that young, three years makes a large difference." There's a pause so he can draw a trembling breath. "But now, when I truly let myself think instead of brushing my thoughts away, you're so..." Bland? Childish? Obnoxious? Dern, you're all too good for this world. "So **gorgeous**."_

_I swallow hard upon meeting his gaze, realizing we're much closer than I originally thought. My chest is tight, undecided. Should I be upset or excited? Dropping my gaze, I dig my fingernails into my palm._

_"You can tear it out and keep it if it's really that great." My voice is supposed to be light, as if I'm only joking. After all, he seems to be completely infatuated with a sloppy outline of a weak attempt at symbolism. He shakes his head. Horrified, I find him turning fully in his seat to face me. I'm left draping halfway over his armrest, perched on my elbows with my nose nearly pressed to his._

_"I don't give a damn about the picture," he admits, his voice low, sincere. His dark lashes brush his skin as he looks down at me, studying with dim green eyes. Studying because I'm the one thing he has yet to figure out, that cocky genius. "I wasn't talking about the drawing, Shae. It only made me realize I've been pretending you're **just**  a friend for so  **long**."_

_"Dern..." is all I can muster, heart pounding in my chest. Pretending._

_"Is that all you can say?" he teases, chuckling gently as he looks over my face. "Your art is fantastic, but you missed such small details. Yes, you have freckles, but they're perfectly arranged in a line across your nose. Your hair is wispier, floating as freely as you do. Your eyes aren't quite so troubled. You're still so full of life; I have to take Phoenix Downs as **vitamins**  just to keep up." He laughs gently, setting my sketchbook to the side and reaching a shaking (much to my surprise) hand up to carefully brush my hair out of my face before speaking again._

_"I remember watching you and praying to the Fates that you found the same energy in me as I did in you. When I escaped Archades, I had no hope, only lackluster dreams of **some**  airship at  **some**  point. You vivified them, vivified  **me**. I made myself stop, put up that wall between 'friend' and whatever could be beyond. You never batted an eye. You never ceased to amaze me."_

_"Quite the monologue," I tease gently, suddenly realizing the warmth under my fingertips is the hand I've wrapped around his wrist. He sighs, rolling his eyes more at himself than at me._

_"I apologize. There's so much I could say that I forget it's incredibly late. How do I..." He groans, frustrated before shaking his head in sharp, reprimanding movements. "Oh, bloody hell. Shae, I love you. Far too much than I should. Should you walk away from this uncomfortable and never wishing to speak to me again, I suppose that's quite alright. Just remember, it was **your**  drawing that pushed me over the edge."_

_"Dern," I laugh quietly. There's that name again. It's mostly soundless air, all sound trapped at the base of my throat. His eyes fall to the armrest I lean on. I release his hand and reach up to touch the side of his face. Smooth, save for the slight stubble from the long day and the beginnings of creased laugh lines. "I could never do such a thing to you."_

_"You can be a tad sadistic," he murmurs, looking up to give me that stellar smile._

_The carefully shaped goatee tracing his chin stretches with his grin, broadening with his lips. His smile falls moments later and we're trapped in silence. He hisses a curse and tangles his hand in the hair on the back of my head, drawing my face upward. His kiss is slow, cherishing, as if every explanation of his affection is mixed in. My heart pounds and my fingers are trapped in his thick hair and in the rough material of his shirt._

_The **Castean**  dings some warning; Dern clumsily releases my head to smack his palm on the board. The ship silences and he laughs into the kiss, pulling me closer. I'm drowning, spinning, screaming, burning, flying... all at the same time. Some forbidden treasure held just out of my grasp for so long only for it to place itself in my hands and beg me to keep it. How could I possibly refuse?_

The morning air is just as crisp as I remember it. The skies are clear and the wind is gentle, cool. I take a deep breath, shudder from the chill of the shadows, and tear my back away from Vaan's. Lazily, I open my eyes, only to see Balthier standing nearby with his arms crossed and his green eyes locked on the expansive view. I stretch my arms over my head and force myself to sit up, my loosely braided hair slowly falling from my shoulder to the ground behind me.

"See what made me leave?" I ask quietly, hugging my knees to my chest. Vaan turns in his sleep and Balthier raises an eyebrow.

"Aside from the rather off-putting nu mou at the temple, I see nothing all that unbearable."

"It wasn't because of Malachaius," I reply, laughing gently under my breath. "The view—it's a sky filled to the brim with freedom and adventure that's practically  _unheard_  of."

"The adventure we've taken to, perchance?" he points out, his face smoothed and gentle, a little something more than passive. I shrug and turn away, my fingers itching to create an image such as this  _anywhere_  sothat I might keep it and remember it forever.

"Sometimes I can't believe I left this."

"Would your partner—Dern, wasn't it? —be safe then?" he asks. I suddenly feel like I'm suffocating. The question is innocent enough, but the words are spit from his tongue like venom that scalds my skin and fights to get underneath. I squeeze my eyes shut to fight the intrusive thoughts, but even then, all I see are pools of blood and a makeshift grave wet with fresh tears.

"I don't know," I finally choke out, forcing my eyes open and swallowing the lump swelling in my throat. "We were close but... he was a free spirit. He would have left me behind at some point."

"It certainly seems as though the dedication was a fair bit off balance."

"Well, from what I heard from him, he had a tendency to leave those who restrained him eventually," I reply quietly. "I can't say I blame him though. I wouldn't want to remain cooped up with an exhausting girl who never shuts her mouth." There's a pause in the conversation and a gentle gust of wind raises goosebumps on my skin.

"You seem to have no trouble shutting your mouth these days, perhaps even when you should act rather than run." I frown, unsure how to take his words. And so, instead of trying to decipher them, I fall onto my back and nudge Vaan's shoulder.

"We've gotta go soon," I murmur, pushing the mess of thick blonde hair out of his tanned face. "Vaan, come on. You know Ashe won't hesitate to leave you behind."

"What, you're my mom now?" he grumbles, swatting my hand away. "Go away, Pen."

"Pen?" I laugh, swatting his arm. "It's a big-bad Shae you're speaking to, boy. Watch your tone."

"Oh sorry," he huffs, giving a breathy snicker and rolling onto his back before peeling his blue-gray eyes open. "Didn't realize it was the mean old hag."

"Bloody hell," I scoff, shoving him as he laughs. "Buzz off,  _thief,_ before I shove you off into your death."

"You wouldn't," he yawns, closing his eyes. Rolling mine, I take hold of his wrist and tugging sharply to he sits up. He doesn't make any effort to move on his own, staying limp and lazy. Gritting my teeth, I move to drag him closer to the edge of the platform when his arm suddenly stiffens and his elbow slams into my chest, knocking me back onto the dirty stones holding us up. Vaan grins down at me as I blink to clear my vision; my mind races to collect its thoughts. "I'm already awake, Shae. No one's leaving me behind today."

"That's quite enough, Vaan," Balthier reprimands, though his tone is teasing. "We've a road to walk and we can't go far with you pinning our resident hag down." He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glittering with mischief. "The things I've heard from your dear Malachaius lead me to believe the implications of your position would not be well liked in these parts."

"For the gods' sake, Balthier," I huff, pushing Vaan off of me and onto the pavement. Dusting off my clothes, I drag myself to my feet and plant my hands on my hips. "That mouth of yours may just get you in deep trouble someday."

"Oh? You seem to enjoy it."

"I'm not entirely sure how to take that," I frown, raising an eyebrow. "And so I'll—"

"Oh, don't play modest; you know very well how to take it."

"I'm not even going to ask," Vaan replies, throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head.

"One more thing I wish to add, to help Vaan," Balthier says, playfulness loud and clear in his voice. "I've decided it's quite fun to bathe with the hag."

"For the love of Fate, Balthier, I'm going to kick your ass until you leave my boot print behind every time you sit down," I snap, shoving him roughly. He only chuckles, Vaan laughing as I skulk away, searching for company that won't pester me relentlessly. Basch and Ashe break their conversation apart to greet me, the princess looking purely exhausted.

"How are you this morning?" she asks wearily.

"I'm doing fine," I shrug. "Balthier and Vaan are both in an  _irritating_ mood, but something tells me that's quite trivial." I cock my head to the side, my hands coming to rest on my hips. "How are  _you?_ You are the most important person here, after all, though I won't sprinkle my words with 'Majesties' and 'Highnesses.'" A small smile spreads across Ashe's lips and I feel the slightest bit of relief.

"I only lost a bit of sleep."

"Thinking of...?"

"The Emperor, the war, nethicite," she lists, sighing and brushing her fair hair out of her eyes. "And now we're on the trail for a weapon to destroy the most powerful force at our fingertips. I'm not entirely sure how to react to it all." She shakes her head, catching Basch's eye before looking back at me. "But... I'd hate to pile my burdens on a  _sky pirate_. You might just sell all my secrets for the extra gil." I grin, shrugging and crossing my arms.

"Yeah, well, that's what you get, Princess. You want to share them, then I'll be sure to share them with the world." I shake my head. "Or, maybe just this once, I'll let you off easy and only mutter it to Vaan in my sleep."

"That would be quite kind of you."

I turn to see Fran and Penelo walking to join us. Vaan and Balthier trail behind, talking and teasing and laughing. I fight a smile, relishing in the warmth that floods my chest. This place is so significant to who I once was and who I am. To see it bathing the others in relief even just this once... it brings me a peace I haven't felt in a long time. Then my blood runs cold.

 _Vayne. That's why I'm here._ For Vayne to know these are people who are steadily gaining favor in my eyes is for Vayne to know my weaknesses. I don't know how many more Derns I can deal with. My palms grow clammy and my stomach churns; I drag my eyes onto the ground. If I were to slip and fall into the trap of smiles and tears and companionship, I would slip and fall into Vayne's trap. No, I can't afford that. I square my shoulders and take a deep breath.  _I can do this. Stone cold. As long as you're distant, they can't come close._

_As long as Balthier doesn't piece me together, I can manage._


	30. Trading Mountains for Moleholes

I pull my lance free from the final ice wolf's neck, hot blood spilling into the melting snow. Fran sheathes her loose arrow and turns her face to the wind, eyes narrowing against its sting. Sighing, I twist at the armor at my wrist as if it's a shackle and not a tool to hide my painful reminders. Vaan huffs, shuddering.

"Are we almost there?"

"The guides said the Shrine is just up this path," Ashe replies, dragging her heavy boots through the deep snow. "The longer we stand and talk, the longer you'll freeze."

"Yeah, yeah," the thief sighs, hugging his arms to his body. Penelo looks equally miserable, shivering with blue lips and fingertips. "I'm starving. We haven't any  _real_ food for  _days."_

"Quit whining," I huff, crossing my arms and trudging along. I glance down at Balthier's open-ended shoes and frown. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not quite," he replies, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

"At least my shoes cover my feet," I scoff, turning my face up to the sun in hopes of warming up. The light heats my face gently, not nearly enough to protect me from the freezing temperatures, but enough to refresh my spirits.

"I generally walk forward, so the holes at the back are really not an issue." Balthier eyes my shirt. "However, those useless cut-outs on your shoulders may be cause for concern before long."

I give a disinterested hum and scan our surroundings for enemies as we climb a towering hill. Vaan sticks his hands in the snow and drags himself up, Penelo frowning at her friend and shaking her head. Basch glances around at all of us, his light eyes staying on me a little longer as he mulls over something. Then, shaking his head, he turns away and nods toward the view ahead I haven't quite reached.

"There we are. The Stilshrine."

"Already?" I ask, stepping up beside him to scan over the sun-kissed blocks building up the temple looming ahead. Vaan bursts out in relieved laughter and runs down the hill, the snow stopping short at the temple's first towering pillars. "It's a relief to take a short walk for once."

"Relish in it," Balthier mutters, starting toward the Shrine. "It may be the last one we take."

"I certainly hope not," I sigh. "Though, at some point, we have to return to Dalmascan terrain."

"That's a long journey," Basch replies. "However, we have chocobos and perhaps even the assistance of Al-Cid. He may have a faster means of travel."

"I can't wait to feel a sunburn again," I breathe, smiling. "And sand, the pesky stuff. I can't wait to feel that scraping me all up while I work on my ship."

"You certainly seem to live a rather tame life," Balthier comments, though I think he says it more to get under my skin. I roll my eyes.

"I may just become a hermit for a while after this. I've had enough adventure in the past decade to last me the rest of my life."

"Is that so? You've only lived for  _two_ of those."

"Stories for another time." 

He doesn't miss my playful wink.

The stone is solid and rough under my feet, the shrine's overhanging arches and pillars creating a sense of scale that steals my breath away. The doors draw closer much quicker than I would like. Unfortunately, we must enter at some point. A kiltias stops us by the door, bowing to Ashe.

"Lady Ashe, a message. The legend tells us the Sword of Kings was never meant to be used for the base spilling of blood. Think you on these words."

"I will," Ashe replies dutifully.

She pushes the enormous stone doors open and we enter the musty Stilshrine of Miriam. The room is expansive with paths and small statues and a massive carving of a king at the center of the open space. Taking a deep breath, the princess leading us steps toward one of the statues, eyes narrowing as she reads the inscription carved into the stone.

"Treaty-seeker: relic held, this pedestal embrace."

"It refers to you, Majesty," Basch replies.

"The relic must mean the Dawn Shard," I nod. Frowning, Ashe pulls the lackluster orb out, resting the nethicite in the palm of her hand.

"And what if we're wrong?" Penelo dares to ask timidly, clutching her staff tightly. "Does this place crumble to pieces with us inside?"

"You've listened to far too many bedtime stories," Balthier retorts, nodding toward Ashe. "It should be right."

"I suppose..."

Ashe steps up, clutching the Dawn Shard in one hand and stretching her free fingers toward the pedestal. A burst of light explodes from the statue, enveloping us in brightness that's nearly blinding. There's a familiar tug and, once the light's faded, we're in a completely new location. I blink the floating spots out of my vision, scanning the dark room made of gray stone. A loud scrape echoes through the corridor and everything tenses as the scrapes turn into creaks and groans.

"Guys?" Vaan's eyes are wide, his knuckles white on the end of his dagger.

"What do you suppose we do?" Balthier replies coolly, unfazed by the living state towering fifteen feet above us.

"Run?" Penelo suggests, clutching her staff.

"I'm certain we could take it," the sky pirate shrugs, glancing back at Ashe. Rolling my eyes, I draw my spear and strike the statue's ankle before diving back and raising an eyebrow, my point proven.

"Can't exactly beat it to death."

"There are more methods."

"That I hardly know of." There's another long, drawn-out scrape as the guardian draws its rough sword.

"I might suggest fleeing this once, Majesty," Basch suggests.

Ashe, giving a defeated sigh, nods. We rush through the doorway ahead with the statue pounding at our heels. We're hardly given a break, however, because the second we find refuge from the monster, we're bombarded with attacks from three dragon-like beasts. If they weren't trying to snap me in half, I might find them beautiful with their glistening power blue scales and lavender wings.

Fran uses her bow to block attacks as she conjures up an ice spell. The dragon snapping at her rears back with a stifled yelp, shaking its head rapidly. I take the opportunity to jab at its chest, Vaan sliding past to slash at its leg. By the time it recovers, the viera's struck it with another spell. To help Basch and Ashe, I cast my own ice spell on their target before rushing back toward my own enemy.

Sticking with my tendency to make my attacks a little extravagant, I grip the side of the dragon's neck and swing myself onto its back, sitting on it like it's a chocobo. Vaan laughs and Fran looks clearly amused as I raise my spear in the air like a proud child might—just before ramming the end through the overgrown lizard's skull.  _I suppose that might be the only divide between me and a child at this rate..._  Fran fires one last spell toward Penelo and Balthier's beast, her partner ending the dragon with a final bullet.

"That was much easier than I thought it would be," Penelo says, relieved. She grins at me. "What was going on over  _there_ , anyway?"

"I was having a bit of fun," I shrug, fighting a smile.

"Apparently Shae prefers to ride her prey before ending it's suffering," Balthier comments, slinging his gun over his shoulder casually. I raise an eyebrow; Basch gives a short huff of a laugh before shaking his head.

"Let's continue then, shall we?" Ashe says finally, brushing the pirate's words off and walking across the broad room to the next stone doorway.

A massive staircase leads up to split in the path, each direction holding another set of stairs that leads deeper into the temple. Ashe leads us down the left path and into a corridor I can only assume is a circle. That way, it wouldn't matter which way we went. A pair of zombies stumbles toward us, quickly dispatched by Fran's fire spells and Basch's blade. At the end of the path, there's another pedestal with a new inscription. I cross my arms, head cocked to the right as I read aloud.

"Treaty-seeker: relic held, this pedestal embrace. Paths untold discover."

"Here we go again," Penelo sighs.

Ashe steps forward and rests her hand on the pedestal. The floor shakes and for half a second, I think the ceiling might collapse. And then the walls lower bit by bit, disappearing into the floor to create a steep set of stone stairs leading to two iron doors. The princess frowns, between the two paths.

"Having a dilemma?" Balthier asks. She spares him an irritated glance and turns Basch.

"Where should we start? Splitting up or staying together?"

"If I know these sorts of temples at all," I start, eyeing the path to the right. "There's a task that must be completed in each section in order for you to proceed with the final discourse."

"Of course there are," Ashe sighs, shaking her head. "Fine, then. We split into two groups and then return here once each task is completed. If there is no task, head toward the other team." She turns to Balthier, her eyes holding the slightest bit of distrust. "Can you lead the other team?"

"It's certainly fitting for the leading man," Balthier replies smoothly, his lips cocked into a smug smile. "Of course I can."

"I will go with the Her Majesty," Basch announces. "Does anyone else wish to join us? We have an uneven number."

"Knowing the both of you in battle, you'll only need one more," Balthier points out, the humble knight bowing his head in thanks. A silence heavily settles over the party as we glance at each other. Fran finally gives in, unexpectedly, and steps forward.

"I have no qualms about joining this group."

"It looks like I'm in charge of the children," Balthier sighs, hands rested on his hips. I scoff.

"You've got  _me._ "

"Your point?"

"One of them won't return," Basch grumbles, Fran's ear twitching in agreement.

"Vaan and I will hold down the fort," I retort, stepping past Balthier and motioning for the youngest members of the party to join us. Vaan grins, grabbing Penelo's wrist and running after me. Balthier and Basch exchange a hidden look and part ways.

We hurry down staircase after staircase, finally entering a room lined with wolfish statues. Two zombies turn upon seeing us enter the room with their swords raised and their flesh rotting. Sending a blast of fire their way, I rush toward one with my spear poised. Vaan and Penelo strike down the second easily enough—zombies aren't exactly the toughest enemies we've crossed so far.

The hallways are incredibly dark and empty, each little sound carrying much farther than intended. Balthier hums the same tune he always does, gun rested on his shoulder. Penelo and Vaan whisper back and forth for a bit before breaking apart. The hallway winds this way and that, leading us along a path scattered with zombies and the occasional gigas.

"I can't  _not_ talk," Vaan finally groans, throwing his head back toward the ceiling. "I'm tired and I'm hungry and I kinda just wanna go back to Rabanastre."

"Be my guest," Balthier replies. "I'd like to see you walk all the way back to Rabanastre."

"I could do it," he replies defensively. Penelo giggles.

"Oh, Vaan. We'd find you kidnapped by pirates or something."

"Probably dead, honestly. The boy could starve from not eating for two hours," I mutter, Balthier chuckling when Vaan protests.

"I don't eat that much!"

"If I recall correctly," Balthier interjects. "When we left Jahara, we had plenty of rations and we're now completely out."

" _Someone_ promised to find more food and never did," I add, nudging the boy. He huffs, running ahead to cut down another undead guardian. Once we catch up, he sheathes his blade with a frown. "I'll give you fair warning now: you eat like that when you're around Balthier's age and you'll look like a seeq in half a year."

"First of all," Penelo starts, raising an eyebrow. "Balthier's only, what, two years older than you? Secondly, that's pretty rude to seeqs."

"But am I wrong?" I counter. Balthier rolls his eyes, shrugging at Vaan when the boy frowns at him. "Exactly."

"I'm not fat  _now,_ " Vaan huffs. "I don't see why it makes a difference in five years."

"Trust me, it does," I laugh, though I do give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "And I didn't say there was anything wrong with you. You're quite  _perfect_ in the body department." Vaan bursts out laughing.

"Did you just squeeze my bicep?" he snickers. I grin back at him, shrugging at Balthier's eyebrow-raise.

"Look, someone's gotta admire the kid's nice...  _features._ "

"I'll keep that in mind," Balthier grumbles, rolling his eyes yet again. He nods toward something in his sights. "I do believe we've found what we're searching for."

A statue of a soldier stands on a short pillar, facing east from our position. Vaan and Penelo run ahead, looking over the stone man in search of clues. The younger of the two finds it first, which is not surprising in any way.

"Guardians three, face ye with the blade. With relic-bearer join, your fealty swear to me." Penelo faces me and Balthier, frowning. "What's that mean?"

"Guardians three..." Balthier muses. "Three statues, most likely."

"Face ye with the blade?" Vaan repeats, scratching at his head. "That's pretty old speech right there."

"What, you never took a language course?" I tease, earning a flat smile. "There's that, and then 'Swear your fealty to me.'"

"Never," Balthier mutters. I ignore him, my mind piecing together the hints in a flash.

"His sword needs to face the statue of King Raithwall!" I blurt.

"For real?" Vaan asks, looking up at the statue.

"That has to be it," I insist, moving to turn the statue on its rotating pillar.

"It seems to add up," Balthier agrees. "Having trouble?"

"Help me out, you ass," I hiss, teeth grit as the statue barely moves. Chuckling, Balthier pushes from the other side of the stone man, turning the statue steadily. "Stop! Right there."

"For sure?" Penelo asks, just to be certain.

"Positive," I nod. "Looks like we can meet up with Basch and Ashe now.

"I wonder if they figured it out," Vaan grins.

"Basch basically  _speaks_ the way these plaques are written," I point out. "They'll be alright."

"And the third statue?" Penelo inquires. I shrug, looking over at Balthier.

"There were only two paths. Two choices." I force myself to look ahead, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "I suppose you just have to choose a path, stick to it, and see what happens." I start walking down the path we came from, my steps faltering upon hearing Balthier reply in his smooth, unaffected voice.

"And if you choose wrong?"

"Then you stick with the wrong path or you cut corners and cross paths to the right way," I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "But you can't ever go backwards."

"Why not?" Vaan asks, walking up to my side and continuing the odd analogy. "Is the past too dark?"

"Not exactly," I reply, brushing my hair out of my face as I think, my voice unintentionally fading to nothing less than raw, real, far deeper than the surface I've bared for so long. "The path crumbles behind you as you continue. You can stop, of course, and the path won't fall from beneath you. But from there you reach no destination." I shrug, turning to flash him a gentle smile. "That's when the darkness catches up and swallows you whole."

"Is the darkness catching up to  _you_?"

"..." I allow a light laugh and shake my head. "Perhaps. At this rate, I've lived enough life for an entire lifetime. I suppose what I might need is a little less of that dark, though."

"We all do," Vaan nods, throwing an arm around my shoulders and grinning at Balthier. "Hey, Balthier. If Fran ever left you would you let Shae be your partner?"

"Absolutely not," Balthier and I reply at the same time. Penelo giggles, shaking her head.

"You're both so  _stubborn_ ," she laughs, catching up to my other side to walk between me and the other sky pirate. "But you  _know,_ when the path falls apart, it doesn't disappear into an abyss. It falls into a river or a lake—so you really  _can_  go back. It's just harder to restart." A pair of green eyes finds mine over the girl's head.

"You hear that, Shae?" Balthier says. "You aren't entirely broken after all."

"Yeah, well, let's just pretend my path's got lava underneath," I retort. "And if I go back, I'll be boiled alive, so..."

"I can't tell if you're joking or not," Vaan admits with a nervous laugh. "I mean, you told me a long time ago in Nalbina that you really hate Vayne. Everyone does. But why  _just_  him? Why not the whole Empire?"

"So many reasons," I scoff. "He's manipulative, he's power-starved, he's  _vain,_ he's twisted and cruel and  _disgusting_. And this is coming from someone who doesn't have much of a position on the war."

"So, you  _have_ met him," Balthier muses. "I was beginning to wonder if you only held grudges for Larsa's sake."

"Of course I've met him," I huff. "One can hardly hate a man so much if he's never truly suffered such cruelty first hand."

"I mean, how cruel is he really, though?" Vaan asks. "All things considered with the war and nethicite, he just seems like a tough guy who wants to control the world." He shrugs, frowning. "He's the reason Reks... But in person, is he really all that  _bad_? Maybe we're just not seeing the whole picture." I let loose a bitter laugh that startles the curious boy, tracing the hem of my shirt.

"Once upon a time, I served under Vayne Solidor. I won't tell you why or when or how I got there, but I did. That man's out of his mind. The only thing he cares for is position and Larsa, and the latter always comes second. After tricking me into slaughtering two of my very best friends, he then decided to lock me away from the world for safety's sake. Long story short, I found a way out and he didn't like it."

"What do you mean...?"

I shrug Vaan's arm off my shoulder and lift the end of my shirt up to my collarbone, revealing a long, twisting scar from a knife carving deep into my flesh. Engraved in my side is the crest of House Solidor and 'Never forget from wence you came' beneath it, fainter. The scar reaches from my hip bone to the bottom of my ribcage, winding snakes forever reminding me of Vayne's venomous mind games.

"This is  _after_ he hurt Dern. Well,  _hurt's_  an understatement." I shrug. "Now, don't you  _ever_ doubt me when I say Vayne needs to die  _ever_ again," I snap, dropping my shirt, smoothing it and continuing down the hall. The other three hesitate together for a moment before following.

"Wait," Vaan calls. "Did Vayne... was he the reason your partner died?"  _The reason? Most definitely._

"Yes."  _The exact cause? No._ I change my tone to a brighter, happier voice. "So, I case you were wondering why I've tagged along, now you know." My pitch and my smile are all too sweet. "Because I'd rather watch Vayne come to a slow, suffering end than entertain Jonan any day." That evokes a quiet laugh from Balthier, but that's my only response. So what if I'm out of my mind? So what if my intentions are dark and wrong and I can't tell anyone the  _truth_ because I can't  _trust?_   _I'm alive aren't I?_  I can't help the grin tugging at my lips _. I can't wait until Vayne's **not**._

Dern... I never knew that I needed you this badly, that you were the only one keeping my head on my shoulders.


	31. The Sword of Kings

"What is that thing?!" Vaan cries, diving back and away from the massive metallic creature dragging itself out of a glowing hole in the stone tiles.

"I haven't the slightest clue," Balthier replies, pulling his gun off his back. The spear in my hands suddenly feels unbearably heavy and I frown, rolling my shoulders back in hopes of alleviating the tension. Vaan, too, notices this weight, slashing his dagger through the air.

"Am I the only one feeling this?"

"No," I sigh, wincing as my arms ache in protest to any movement. "Our friend here likely emits a magnetic field."

"Fantastic," Balthier breathes, glancing over his shoulder at Penelo. "Know a spell or two to lend us a hand?"

"I can try," the girl replies, baring her staff as a skimpy shield.

"How's that gun feel, Balthier?" I ask, watching the bizarre iron dragon clamber closer.

"Not terrible."

I break off from the group and rush to the left, my steps slowed by the dragging weight of my weapon. While the creature is distracted, I take the opportunity to use momentum to swing my spear into its rusted back. One of its three eerie human-like faces swoops around its side and nears my own face. I stumble back, Vaan redirecting its attention with a rather hard slash to its metal shell.  _How long has this freak been down here?_ Balthier's gun cracks loud and clear without any hesitation.  _It doesn't affect him then, the lucky bastard._

Jerking away from Penelo's touch, the creature slides into the largest space in the room and spins, balancing on a single, deadly-sharp foot. I hardly have time to react before a dozen swords fly out in all directions. A stinging cut burns my left shoulder, the slash in my shirt causing the material to fall even further off my shoulder. Balthier dives to the right and Vaan to the left. The thief crashes into the pirate, causing them both to clamber to the ground less than gracefully. Penelo manages to escape the damage, but deemed the weakest link, the creature targets her.

Caught between fighting and saving the girl, I glance toward the two young men tangled up on the ground, each reaching for their weapon. Balthier looks far from frustrated, more burning with an irate temper, as he kicks at Vaan, trying to fire a shot that might stop the dragon from beheading the blonde. Penelo blocks a blow with her staff; I throw my weighted spear to the ground and dive toward Balthier. Huffing, I tear the gun from his fingertips.

"Oh, give me that, you incompetent buffoon!" I snap, firing one, two, three shots into the monster's side.

It rears two of its heads, the open iron-cast mouths screaming metallic echoes of pain. Tossing the firearm back to Balthier, I run to rescue my spear. Just as I drag the heavy javelin off the ground, Vaan slashes across the base of a head, chopping it clean off. The iron mask rattles to the ground and rolls to my feet, the creature shuddering and collapsing onto itself.

With a final groan, it falls back into the boiling pit of lava it dragged itself away from to begin with. Screaming, it flails its rusted limbs in the air as it melts away into the liquid rock. Two stone panels slide over the lava and close off the dying dragon below. Without hesitation, I sling my  spear onto my back and scowl at the boys.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

"Ask Vaan," Balthier huffs, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt and twisting a colorful ring on his tanned finger. "I suppose he decided now was the perfect time for a dirt nap."

"I did not!" the younger boy protests, throwing his hands in the air. "You hit me!"

"I did no such thing," Balthier sniffs. "If you had watched where you were—"

"Shut up!" I snap, halting them in their argument. Uncomfortable, Vaan pulls his arms closer to his body and Balthier raises an eyebrow. "It doesn't matter who did what. Your idiocy could have gotten Penelo killed."

"She can fight," Vaan defends.

"With that twig?" I retort, plucking the staff from the girl's hands and holding it out for her friend to see. "In what universe could  _this_ stop twelve iron swords and a  _pissed_ dragon?"

"Relax, Vaan," Balthier sighs, rolling his eyes. I huff, shoving the staff back into Penelo's hands and turning toward the next stone soldier we need to turn to Raithwall. "She's letting her sisterly instincts get the better of her," he mutters.

My short temper sparks to fury and I dive toward him, fist raised to meet his jaw. Both his hands push me back and Vaan's tug on my waist stops me from hitting Balthier, but it does nothing to prevent my elbow from snapping into the thief's nose. Groaning, the teenager falls back and clutches his dripping nose. Irritated, I clutch the high collar of Balthier's shirt and jerk his face down toward mine, glowering into his eyes.

"Can I help you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I don't miss the warm pressure of his hands gently pressed to my sides.

"Piss. Off."

"Oh, getting snappy, are we? Where did your manners go?"

I merely spit in his face in response, shoving him away and stomping toward the statue. Grimacing, the pirate, swipes at his face with his dirtied sleeve. Penelo casts a gentle healing spell on her friend's bloody nose. I grit my teeth and shove at the statue to try and turn it in the right direction. It hardly budges.

"Need assistance?" Balthier asks smugly.

"You absolute _ass_ ," I hiss, digging my heels in the ground and pushing with my shoulder. It moves half an inch.

"That's no apology."

"You're not receiving one."

"You're not receiving help."

"I don't need it."

"It's naptime, then," Vaan mocks, yawning and slumping against the wall. Balthier smiles, joining his side and leaning back, watching with a smirk. Torn, Penelo merely stands far away.

"I despise you all," I huff, pulling out my spear and looking the statue up and down. "Fates kill me now."

"Don't tempt me," Balthier scoffs. "You nearly ruined my shirt."

"I could ruin a whole lot more," I retort, driving my spear's head in between the statue's base and the tiles.

"Oh?" The pirate raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Is that a promise?"

"You're gross," Vaan laughs, elbowing him.

Ignoring them, I push the spear's end, prying the soldier forward until it's turned enough that I'm satisfied. It would be incredibly inconvenient to have to redo all these pillars. I slide my spear back into its slot and stomp past my teammates, my hair swishing across the base of my back. I don't wait for them to catch up, keeping my quick, long strides even when Vaan begs me to slow down.

"Shae, c'mon! We're just kidding around!"

"Vaan, leave her alone," Penelo huffs, chasing after her friend. I force my eyes to stay ahead and shiver against the chill of the Stilshrine. Something's off about this place, and I've a feeling Belias isn't the last of the Espers the Fates will throw our way.

~|~|~|~|~

"I'm glad you figured it out as well," Basch admits, watching the base of Raithwall's enormous sword shift out of our way and open a new passage.

"It was all Shae," Vaan admits, scratching at his head when I scowl at him. "And she's in a bad mood, so wouldn't bother her right now."

"Whatever," I huff, crossing my arms. "You and Balthier are absolute—"

"Let's save the fighting for later," Ashe breaks in, leading the way down the new path.

"I'd hold your tongue if I was you," Balthier mutters as he passes by. I resist the urge to slam into his back with the end of my spear and follow the group further into the shrine.

The stairs slope upward into a doorway. Penelo, on edge, casts a shielding spell over us all. Ashe nods her thanks and pushes the stone door open. Immediately, we see that the entire room we enter is frozen over, coated top to bottom in a gleaming blue ice. In the center stands the figure of a woman with a massive golden tail and appendages like wings sprouting from her back. Her eyes are shielded by a pointed gold guard over her eyes. I shiver, pulling my spear free and watching my breath cloud in the air.

The creature swims up into the air, bearing a glittering trident, and the ice bursts into nothingness, cold shards that dissipate at her command. A swarm of ice shards collected as single beings flutters around her. Careful not to be caught in a corner, we break off from one another and try to divide up the work. Fran casts a fire spell on the creature itself, only to have the flame bounce right back at her.

"It's cast a reflect spell," Basch calls in warning.

One of the ice azers flies toward me, a flurry of sentient snow. A wave of bitter cold blows over me when the swarm casts a blizzard spell. Hitting it away with my spear, I hit it with a fire spell, nearly half of the azer melting after one hit. I grit my teeth through another ice spell and light it aflame once more. Taking my last opportunity, I strike the ice shards out of place and send them skittering across the ground, lifeless. Suddenly, the creature shrieks, swiveling around to face me as an appendage falls off her back and crumples on the floor. Blocking a strike from her frosted trident, I roll past her and rush back toward Basch.

"Kill those ice things!" Vaan calls, noticing the monster's reaction to me killing one of the swarms.

Quickly and easily, the lesser ice creatures are dispatched. Ashe is the first to turn to the mermaid-like monster, slashing into her side with her sword. Her shriveled appendages litter the floor and her icy blood drips from a wound inflicted by Vaan's dagger.

Fran fires a final arrow into the creature's chest; the monster rears, screaming and writhing in agony as her blue skin melts away into a flurry of cerulean sparks. The glittering bits of what she once was form into a gleaming orb that flutters down to the floor. In a flash of bright light, the ball becomes a symbol like that of the first Esper's, only gold and twisted into a different shape altogether. Taking a deep breath, Ashe sheathes her sword and steps up to the glittering symbol.

"What is the power of Belias?" she asks Basch in a low voice, her blue-gray eyes scanning over the Esper's remains.

"Strength," Basch replies flatly. "But not as simple as you might think. Belias gives strength through instinct and knowledge; I know not of this creature's might."

"Mateus," she whispers.

"What's that?" Vaan frowns, stepping up to her side. Ashe shakes her head, pressing her palm to the symbol. In a brilliant show of sparks, the image disappears and Ashe shudders.

"Well?" Balthier asks, crossing his arms. He's impatient, eyebrow raised.

"The power to heal," she replies, staring at her pale fingers a moment longer before shaking her head and walking toward the door at the other end of the room. "The blade should be just ahead."

"I don't doubt that," I sigh.

She pushes the door open to reveal a dim room glowing with blue runes and pillars. Curious markings of old Dalmasca litter the dark space, leading all the way up to the largest rune of all. It's a circle of twisted gold surrounded by smaller blue circles and filled with an even smaller blue pattern. Entranced, the princess walks up the stairs and close to the luminous panel. The gold circle begins to spin, awakened by her presence. The very center panel opens up and inside rests the Sword of Kings, a blade with a hollowed center and an array of spikes across the top.

Ashe pulls the Dawn Shard free, the nethicite now glowing a vibrant violet in response to the blade's aura. The pillars and spinning circles flash gold and stop their turning, their blue glow fading with the flash. The Sword of Kings absorbs the light, slowly drifting from its shelf and floating toward Ashe. The princess reaches up, gingerly wrapping her fingers around the grip. And then it clatters to the ground, heavier than she expected.

"You should try it on the Dawn Shard," Vaan suggests, stepping closer to her. "See if it can destroy nethicite or not."

"What?"

"He may just be on to something," Balthier comments, rests his hands on his hips. I roll my eyes but hold my tongue.  _He doesn't seem to be the fondest of the stuff, now does he?_ He nods his head toward his shoulder, shrugging when Ashe turns to face him. "The Dawn Shard's no use to us, after all."

Sighing, Ashe nods, turning and setting the Dawn Shard on a smaller raised part of the floor. She steps back, sword in hand. Suddenly, the Dawn Shard lights up again, a weak flicker in the dark.

"The Stone bleeds Mist," Ashe mutters.

"It has been roused," Fran replies. "It fears the sword."

Ashe stares ahead into the greenish cloud the Shard emits, gasping and lost in a daze. Frowning, I step forward to see what she's looking at, only to feel my breath catch in my throat. A tall, build man with tanned skin, a rough canvas shirt and a familiar spear sheathed on his back.  _Dern?_ I blink and then he's gone, nothing there.

My heart pounds in my chest, bringing me back to reality. I suddenly realize I've stepped forward, my hands balled into fists at my side and my mouth gaping; the others look confused. Their focus is drawn away when Ashe raises the sword over her head with great effort, taking a deep breath. It comes crashing down as she cries out, striking. And she misses. The Dawn Shard stops leaking Mist, its glow flickering out.

"You missed," I say dryly, the image of Dern's grin still vibrant in the back of my mind. I shake my head; Mist plays the cruelest tricks on the minds of the vulnerable.

"The Stone is quiet," Fran murmurs.

"This is the sword," Ashe nods. "The nethicite destroyer."

"Should it find its mark," Balthier grumbles, struggling to contain his irritation. Abruptly, he turns on his heels and paces away, leaving the rest of us behind in a fit of fighting anger. Sighing, Fran follows, brushing past me. I spare Ashe one last glance before starting to leave.

"Wait," Ashe calls. "Vaan, tell me. Did you see him again?"

"Who?" I demand, coming back to the thief's side.

"Rasler," he replies, his eyes falling to the ground. "And no, I didn't. Not a thing... Not even my brother." His voice is quiet, disappointed. "Not... not anything." He turns away quickly, following the others. Basch is surprisingly long gone, leaving with Penelo as Vaan and Ashe spoke. Ashe's eyes flicker to the floor, her fingers playing over the surface of the Dawn Shard.

"I saw something," I admit finally, earning her attention. "But it wasn't Rasler."

"Who...?" Her question cuts off. "Your partner?" I nod, crossing my arms.

"I'm not sure why, but I saw him, standing there with the biggest grin on his face." I scoff, shaking my head. "Not that it means anything. Mist plays tricks on the minds of the weak. I suppose I've let my defenses slip a bit too far." When she doesn't reply, I head out the door to the exit of the Stilshrine, our mission accomplished. 


	32. Return to Mount Bur-Omisace

The second the sun greets our faces, the sound of airships overhead greets our ears. I stare up at the sky and my stomach sinks with dread. Enormous war machines drift above, drowning out the sounds of the Stilshrine's guards murmuring behind us. The largest ship spreads its black wings with a smoky hiss, revealing an entire battalion of smaller ships beneath; I feel sick. Fran gasps, pointing to the left.

"There!"

"Smoke?" Vaan breathes. I feel the blood drain from my face as I turn to face the column of black smoke rising in the distance, right where Bur-Omisace should stand.

"What could it mean?" Ashe murmurs.

"It means we need to go," I snap, not waiting for her response before taking off in a dead sprint, running for the mountain refuge. Vaan is the first to catch up, Fran and Balthier not far behind. But I pay them no mind, my thoughts burning faster than a wildfire. The place I owe my life to, the place in which the Gran Kiltias resides, the place I left my brother to mourn... Gods above, if it's fallen, Vayne has far more to pay for.

"Why are you in such a rush?" Ashe asks, breathless.

"Long story short, I owe my all to that place," I call over my shoulder. "I'd expect you to be more concerned,  _Princess._ The Gran Kiltias is the very soul who holds the power to tell you all you need to know to sit on your throne."

She shuts her mouth after that. My lungs burn with the frozen air and my legs ache with their relentless abuse, but I can't stop running. I can't stop picturing the blood, the fear, the screams. I can't be too late to stop this, even if it's already taken place. If only I could turn back time.

I skid to a stop at the entrance to the refugee camp, choking and gasping on air. My throat is tight, my eyes stinging as I look upon the sickening disaster swallowing Mount Bur-Omisace. A heavy rain begins to fall from the dark clouds drifting overhead. A kiltias drags himself toward us, clutching his bleeding chest as he chokes on his breaths. I crouch at his side, watching him falter and collapse on the dirt.

"To send their soldiers here and profane this place..." he coughs, crimson splattering to the ground. "Has Archadia no fear of the gods?"

I shake my head, straightening. My hair is plastered to my skin and I know my shirt is practically transparent at this point, but I can't bring myself to care. I shrug the heavy hand off my shoulder and charge through the rest of the fallen. Burnt tents and bloodstained weapons are scattered across the ground and pitch-black smoke stains the edge of the temple. People cluster in the shadows, thinking us to be imperials right off the bat. A young man clutches a crying girl as he presses a blood-soaked rag to his side, her mother wiping away her own tears. I take a deep breath and continue on, running up the stairs to the temple and pushing past the wounded guards.  _Larsa..._ The doors fly open and my heart catches in my throat.

The stone railings of the walkway are crumbled, tossed about like a tornado ripped the temple to pieces. A fire burns in the deepest corner of the room. And at the very front, lies the fallen, bleeding body of the Gran Kiltias Anastasis, a Judge looming over him. The others skid to a stop behind me. He turns and faces us, chills rippling down my spine. It's a helmet I recognize.

"Ah, our vagrant princess." I get the strongest feeling that he's not talking  _directly_  to Ashe, but the rest of our party doesn't seem to notice. "My dear Ashelia: swift has your lust for revenge led you to the Sword of Kings." He motions toward the Kiltias with his jagged blade. "You will surrender it to me. Too late, and to their sorrow do those who misplace their trust in gods learn their fate." He steps closer, the faintest shadow with orange eyes shimmering over his shoulder.

"There it is again!" Vaan cries, pointing. Seething Mist, the Judge stops before us, daring us to move.

"Fran, I don't like the look of that," Balthier says, catching his partners attention.

"This Mist—he holds a Stone!" she replies. "It controls him as it did Mjrn!"

"No!" the Judge laughs. "No, the power of manufacted nethicite is the power of Man! A weapon forged by his wisdom who would challenge the gods themselves! A fitting blade for a true Dynast-King. Raithwall did but pretend the title, a cur begging nethicite scraps from his master's table." He throws his arms out to the side. "Hark! Ivalice hails her true Dynast-King, Vayne Solidor! He shall defy the will of the gods, and see the reins of history back in the hands of Man! His time is nigh! The new Ivalice holds no place for the name Dalmasca. The stain of Raithwall's blood shall be washed clean from history's weave!" I scoff, raising my spear.

"I'm about done listening to this bastard babble."

"I'm with you there," Balthier mutters, his gun shifting in his grip.

"You'll pay for this!" Vaan shouts, rushing forward with his daggers.

Basch blocks the Judge's first strike, preventing him from him hitting Vaan. Penelo throws up a Protect spell to lessen the damage and Ashe rushes forward with both her sword and shield raised. The others are forced back when the Judge swings his swords around, whipping the blades about like they're weightless. I take the opportunity to dive right in, only to be shoved back against the wall, the Judge's forearm pressed to my throat. The smooth face of his helmet comes close to my face, his voice low when he speaks.

"Why, hello, Majesty," he sneers. I huff, shoving him off me and into Basch's blade.

"Where's Larsa?" I demand, slamming my spear across the edge of his sword.

"How should I know?" he counters, pushing back with twice the strength.

With unnatural speed, he springs into the air and brings both blades down over my head. He narrowly misses chopping my head off when I duck. Instead, his blade slices a clean cut down the side of my face; it's a miracle he didn't catch my eye. Fran uses her bow to block an attack and kicks her heeled feet into his face to back him off while I recover. Scrambling to my feet, I throw a fire spell toward the heavily armored soldier. Penelo sends a healing spell my way to stop the bleeding and I join Ashe's side, stabbing into a joint in the Judge's armor. Crying out, he turns to attack us; Basch uses this moment of weakness to send a blow into another chink.

With a final slashing flurry, Vaan gets his attack in and dives back when I plant the heel of my boot into the Judge's chest and send him flat on his back. He scrambles to his feet before I can stop him, but this time, his movements are wild.  _Just like Mjrn._  He slashes at nothing, his breathing ragged. Colorful Mist leaks from his armored frame. Light tears into his chest and he screams, falling forward on his knees as tendrils of mint green light burst from his breastplate. Once the lights have faded, he falls onto his back, an empty shell.

Quickly, most everyone rushes toward the Gran Kiltias, hovering over his dead body. I kneel beside the empty armor lying on the ground. Balthier crouches beside me, tracing a hand over the heavy steel. Sighing, he shakes his head, disgusted by the smell of disintegrated flesh.

"Looking for something?" I ask, scrubbing at the blood on my face. My loose hair curls around my face as it dries and I brush it back, raising an eyebrow at the pirate. He shakes his head.

"Nothing much. You?"

"Just thought I'd say 'Go to Hell' to the poor sod," I shrug. He nods, getting to his feet and motioning for me and Fran to follow him. I huff, dragging my tired muscles up and after him.

"He set his very bones about with manufacted nethicite," the pirate mutters, earning Ashe's attention. "The Gran Kiltias?" 

Penelo sighs, shaking her head. Suddenly, she straightens.

"Wait—what about Larsa?"

"Gone." I turn to see Al-Cid limping toward us with his attendant clinging to his side. "Spirited away by Judge Gabranth."

"At least it wasn't Vayne," I mumble.

"They're on the same side," Vaan snaps. I raise an eyebrow.

"Does that make them the same man? Listen to a woman who knows what she's talking about." Huffing, the boy hurries toward the envoy from Rozzaria.

"You okay?" The attendant helps Al-Cid settle on the floor.

"So, he was here," Basch mutters.

"Ah, as for our young lordling," Al-Cid continues. "He went along—to avoid trouble, you see. But Judge Bergan had other ideas."

"I can see that," I scoff, glancing at the Judge's armor.

"He flew into a rage, and I was left to fend for myself."  _Oh, cry me a river._  "Please, Princess. You must permit me to take you back with me to Rozzaria." Ashe kneels beside him, frowning.

"So that you can protect me?"

"I would lay down my life at a single word, to be sure, but I harbor no maundering delusions of valiant grandeur. Vayne has our War Pavilion jumping at shadows. They favor a preemptive strike. But you—you will convince them otherwise. You will see that they do not start this war."

"This I cannot do," Ashe replies, shaking her head. "Forgive me. But my errand here is not yet done." She stands, fists clenched at her sides. "I must wield the Sword of Kings, and with it bring an end to the Dusk Shard."

"Ah, this Stone," Al-Cid sighs. "Do you even know where it is?"

"I can venture a guess," Balthier cuts in. I cross my arms, waiting for the man's explanation.  _He knows **far** more than I gave him credit for. _"The Draklor Laboratory. In Archades." My heart sinks, and it must show on my face because he stares at me a bit longer than usual. "The empire's weapons research begins and ends there. How soon do we leave?"

"But won't it be heavily guarded?" I counter, frowning. He raises an eyebrow.

"Of course. You of all people should know that, Shae." I ignore the stares from Ashe and Basch and huff.

"We could be killed the instant we step foot in the city," I bite back. "You honestly think it's wise to send  _Ashe_ into the depths of Archades at a time like this?"

"Emphasis on ' _could',_ " he retorts. He turns back to Ashe, repeating his question. "How soon do we leave?"

"At once," the princess nods. She turns back to Al-Cid. "As for matters in Rozzaria... I bid you luck." The attendant pulls the Rozzarian politician back to his feet as he speaks.

"So you would leave each to fend for his own. Let us hope that you are not disappointed." He starts to leave, only to glance once more over his shoulder. "Ah, that's right. Larsa left a message: 'The differences between our two lands will fade before the shared dream of men.'" He pulls his sunglasses out and places them on the bridge of his nose. "My leave I take."

We trail out behind him, passing by the nu mou bowing outside the temple in respect for the late Gran Kiltias. Among the crowd, I see nothing of Malachaius; I can't bring myself to feel anything for the nostalgic old fellow. I shake the thought away as Ashe turns to Balthier.

"How do you propose we reach Archades? Archadia's borders will be well guarded for fear of Rozzarian invasion. We dare not approach by air."

"And their navy will see that the coast is watched as well..." Balthier muses. "No, we go afoot. We'll cross into Archadia in the Salikawood. We can reach the wood any number of ways, but the easiest is to head north from Nalbina."

"At that rate we'll past by the outskirts of Rabanastre," I add. "So it's like we're doing one, long backtrack."

"There is a hunter's camp just beyond the Salikawood," Fran nods. "The camp sits within Archadia's borders, so Imperial patrols should be sparse."

"Getting that far should be half the fun," Balthier continues. "Let's be sure we go prepared."

"And you're certain we can't take any sort of vehicle?" Ashe asks, frowning. "It'll be far too long on foot alone."

"We have chocobos," I point out, sighing. "But any sort of machinery would be caught all too easily. Archadia has the best of the best when it comes to technology." I turn to Balthier. "Although... We could hitch a ride to Rabanastre, couldn't we?"

"Did you see those forces earlier?" Balthier counters, shaking his head. "No, they're not yet far away. We'll buy a group of birds and take them as far as they'll go, but that's all we've got."

"Gods above," I sigh, throwing my face back to feel the rain. "Let's hope we survive the walk, at least."


	33. The Road to Archadia

~ _6 months before~_

_I sigh, chewing my lip and tossing my messy brunette hair from my eyes, staring long and hard at the drawing before me. A rough depiction of my cabin, blankets wrinkled and strewn across two shadowed figures. One, Dern, lays on his back, head rested on the arms behind his head. Half of his bare chest is exposed before disappearing beneath the covers. My own slim figure is curled up to the left, head rested on his collarbone. Light shines in through the narrow window to the room, indicating that we’ve slept in well past noon. Four feet stick out from underneath the heavy blanket, legs tangled from the ankles up. The best depiction I can create based on what I imagine this perspective looks like._

_Setting the sketchbook to the side, I stand from my seat at my smooth desk and stretch to release the tense hunch in my muscles. Dern should be back any minute now, returning from trading in a smaller Dalmascan town I have yet to visit. Apparently, he thinks the village will be safer since the Imperials will most likely pay less attention there. I hope he’s right._

_Restless, I leave my cabin and wander down the hallway to his room. I open the door, taking a deep breath. Even after all these years, he carries the distinct scent of Archadia. Most likely that cologne he insists on wearing daily. I laugh to myself, shaking my head. ** **Truly a city boy.****  Curious, I sit in the wooden chair at his desk and reach toward a drawer. I glance toward the doorway, paranoid, before pulling the bin open. Inside lies his revolver, extra bullets, and an x-potion. No surprises there. I move to the drawer beneath that._

_I almost cringe at the stack of my own handiwork sitting in the bottom, a pile of drawings he’s collected from me over the past year and a half. None are plans for the ** **Castean****. He supposedly keeps those in a special folder. On top of the sketches rests an empty potion bottle and a pair of rubies the size of my palms.  ** **Wonder why we haven’t sold those yet.****_

_Closing the drawer, I lean back in his seat, kicking my feet up on his desk. Frowning at an odd pressure, I sit straight again, pulling the journal under my boot out and leafing through the pages. I smile upon seeing my name too many times to count and open the last entry in hopes of seeing something to boost my ego. What I read, however, has my heart sinking and my breath caught in my throat._

****_“I received a letter from an odd courier yesterday. More of an envelope full of papers, honestly. I was hesitant to open it, but I did so after sending Shae away to test the new engine model I’m developing. The letter is full of records of where Shae and I have been for the past six months. In the back, there’s a threat from someone in House Solidor (Vayne, no doubt). If Shae is not turned over within two weeks, he will find us and take her away himself. To some fate worse than death, I fear._ ** **

****_“The letter continued to tell me where the Imperials would be expecting me or Shae to be turned in, listed the amount of gold being offered. I refuse to let this go any farther than Vayne has already driven it. No, I fear they may find us all too soon. Today I make for the village where the Imperials will be; it’s a heavily occupied section of land. Today I turn myself in._ ** **

****_“Shae, my love, if you were clever (or curious) enough to search my journal for my whereabouts, I beg you not to worry. Do not head for the capital, as I doubt they will bring me there for fear of being predictable. I have my own way out. All I need is for you to run and hide where Archadia will never find you. Merely await my return in patience.”_ ** **

_The journal falls onto the desk with a thud, my hands trembling as I grip the edge of the wood. He turned himself in… Made sure he was caught… To throw them off? So they could torture him relentlessly for information he didn't have? I shake my head, my mouth dry as I try to swallow my dread. We could have escaped ** **together****. We’ve always done this  ** **together.****  Why did he…?_

_I stand up so abruptly Dern’s chair clatters to the floor behind me. ** **He’d be long gone by now.****  My stomach turns. I hurry toward the cockpit of my ship, starting her up and flying her away within minutes. The further I run, the sicker I feel.  ** **Where do I go?****_

_The stubborn spirit festering inside me begs for me to turn back, to hunt Dern down. The reasonable side suggests that Dern has a plan and that I should wait it out—for now. I slam my fist onto the side of the dashboard, throwing my head back to stare at the ceiling. ** **I don’t understand, Dern. Why? Why you?****_

It’s been days since we left Bur-Omisace. In the midst of fighting wildlife, searching for anything edible, and disagreeing on an array of directions, we’ve all hopped onto our last nerve. Last night, Ashe snapped and shouted at Vaan for drowning the fire out whilst trying to learn a water spell. Basch hardly speaks anymore, Fran looks ready to stab everyone in their sleep, and the last time I spoke to Balthier, I threatened to shove my spear up his ass if he said another word. 

As I said, we’re on our last nerves.

At this rate, we’ve just passed the outskirts of Rabanastre after dragging ourselves through the sweltering sands all day. The heat is still far more welcoming than the freezing air of Bur-Omisace, though. My chocobo keeps pecking Penelo’s and Ashe’s is half asleep. All this to carry myself back to the land I loathe, the very cityI ran from at the age of fourteen… it’s all a bad omen to me.

“I think we should bathe tonight,” Penelo suggests, breaking the silence.

“You think?” I scoff, nodding to the snoozing thief resting against my back. “I  _know_. Your friend here smells worse than a soured pile of onions.”

“ _Her_  friend?” Basch repeats, raising an eyebrow. “As I recall, you two are hardly ever apart.”

“He’s the only somewhat bearable one here,” I shrug. “Sorry.”

“Somewhat?” Vaan grumbles, peeling his face off my shoulder and tightening his arms around my waist. “You better like me a lot better soon cuz we’re bird-buddies.”

“Bird buddies?” Penelo laughs, squealing when my chocobo snaps at hers. “Hey!”

“He’s got the same attitude as his rider,” Balthier points out, smiling at my scowl.

“I’ve never bitten you.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“What’s  _that_ supposed to mean?” I demand. He only shrugs, winking at Ashe. She sighs, shaking her head.

“Are we to reach Nalbina soon?”

“Soon enough,” Balthier says. He glances back at me, Vaan, and Basch. “We have some rather remarkable memories from their dungeons.”

“Definitely,” I mutter, picking the pace back up on my chocobo until I’m next to Ashe. Keeping my voice, I lean a little closer toward her. “I apologize for asking, but why didn’t you take Al-Cid’s offer?”

“His offer of protection?”

“The offer to quell the rebels that are driving this whole thing mad.”

“I must use the Sword of Kings to destroy the Dusk Shard,” she replies simply. “We went through all the trouble to retrieve it and I have to see this through to the end.” I roll my eyes and she frowns.

“And this isn’t some issue of revenge?” I give her no time to respond, shaking my head. “Forget I asked—this whole thing’s a suicide mission of vengeance.”

“And what if it’s all revenge?” she replies sharply. “You’ve no idea of the cruelty and utter madness of Vayne Solidor. If you’re against it, why did you come?” There’s a pause and Vaan shifts behind me.

“You didn’t show her the scars, did you?” he asks. My only reply is a sigh. Ashe frowns.

“Scars? The ones the nu mou on Bur-Omisace spoke of?”

“His name was Malachaius,” I mutter. “And no, not those ones; those are merely burns.”

“Vayne carved the Solidor family crest into her side with a knife,” Vaan blurts. The princess pauses, Basch staring at me in utter silence. Huffing, I throw my elbow back into Vaan’s ribs. Balthier sighs.

“Way to sugarcoat it, Vaan.”

“What? She was beating around the bush,” he shrugs. “Pretty sure he carved some words in, too. Something about not forgetting what you did.”

“Vaan, I swear to the Fates,” I growl, elbowing him again. He ignores me.

“He also tricked her into killing two of her best friends and he somehow killed her partner, too.”

Before I can make my own response, Balthier swoops in and tugs on the back of the boy’s shirt, sending him toppling down into the sand, sputtering. I laugh, shaking my head; Balthier chuckles and accepts my nod of thanks.

“You got it wrong!” I call over my shoulder as Vaan tries to catch up on foot. “It says ‘Never forget from whence you came,’ thief.”

“ _Guys_!”

“Don’t you think we should go back for him?” Ashe asks, looking back at him anxiously. Balthier shakes his head.

“Eyes ahead, Princess.”

Ashe and I face forward, noticing the incoming shape of Nalbina. Sighing, I snap my chocobo’s reins and charge toward civilization, the others hot on my heels. Finally, the desert sun stops beating on my back as I pull into the shade of the fortress. Ashe reminds us that this is only a short stop to replenish our curatives and buy some food for the trip and we break off in hopes of finding something useful.

I slip the bag of animal bits under my sash and head straight to the market. The crystals and scales and pelts sell for well over two thousand gil. I tuck the money away and turn to leave the bazaar, only to crash right into someone’s chest.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, I wasn’t watching where I—Jonan?”

“I told you I’d be on the move,” the young man shrugs, flashing that winning grin. “What say you pay ahead of time? The new month’s on the verge of starting.”

“Not here,” I huff, taking hold of his tanned arm and pulling him through the market behind me. I pass by Basch, earning a confused glance, but nothing more. Finally, free from the crowds, we stop outside a tavern and I spill five hundred gil into my palm before handing it over. He laughs, taking hold of the money and pressing his chapped lips to my forehead.

“Many thanks, dearest. What are you doing out here?”

“What say I explain it over a bottle of a madhu?” I suggest. He chuckles, brushing his golden hair back and winking a bright blue eye.

“I’ll return shortly, Shae. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I shake my head, sitting on a wooden crate and crossing my legs. Satisfied, he nods and disappears for hardly a moment. Just as I start picking at the splinters in the wood, the pirate returns with two slim green bottles. Sitting beside me, he hands me my drink.

“I better be reimbursed for this,” Jonan hints, nudging my side. Rolling my eyes, I press a gold coin into the boy’s palm and take a swig from my bottle. “Now, the answer?”

“We’re on a journey to return to Archadia,” I mutter, swishing my drink around in its container. Jonan nearly chokes on his.

“What?!” he sputters. I huff, pressing a finger to my lips. “Shera, they’ll eat you up alive! You haven’t gone back—”

“For six years,” I cut him off. “I know. I just hope I’ve changed drastically enough that they don’t recognize me.”

“The people aren’t on the lookout for you as much as they were before,” he nods, pausing to take a drink. “However,” he continues, “most trained Imperials are taught by Vayne himself to give him notice if you’re spotted. That pretty face of yours is hard to miss.”

“You’re joking.”

“You think so? I was talking to a man at a tavern—I was drunk, mind you—and I mentioned a friend named Shera…” He chuckles, taking hold of my shoulder and flashing that grin yet again. “They were onto me faster than a panther pounces on its prey. When questioned, I only laughed and told a story of a farm girl in Rozzaria.”

“I’ll keep my face covered, for the most part,” I sigh, knocking my boot against his. “I’m… surprised they didn’t recognize you.”

“Even if they did, they chose to leave me alone a long time ago.” His naturally cheerful tone falls and he shrugs, taking a drink. He fights a smile onto his face and slings an arm across my shoulders, pulling me closer. “You paid; it doesn’t matter right now.”

“Get off me,” I scoff, rolling my eyes and pushing at his wrist half-heartedly.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he teases, wrapping both arms around me and crushing me to his side. “We’re  _best_  friends, aren’t we?”

“I’d hardly call us acquaintances,” I mutter, elbowing his ribs. “Honestly, Jonan, you’re crushing my—”

“Haven’t we learned to keep our hands to ourselves?”

I look up to see Balthier standing in front of us with his hands on his hips and an eyebrow arched. I huff; Jonan grumbles something and pulls one hand away to reach for his drink. Scanning the emptiness behind Balthier, I frown.

“Where’s Fran?” He shrugs.

“Off living her own life. She doesn’t always tail me.” He nods toward Jonan. “Owe him more?”

“Nah, she paid her dues this month.” Jonan tugs on my braid playfully, winking. “We get along nice when she’s good.”

“No, we don’t,” I huff, crossing my arms. Jonan laughs, turning back to Balthier.

“Listen, friend. The people out here don’t have a warrant out for my arrest and probable execution.”

“And would they pass up the opportunity to travel a day to Rabanastre for Vayne’s riches?” Balthier counters.

“Touché,” the blonde mutters, finishing off his madhu. “I’m not bothering her, so why’re you on my ass?”

“I’m in no such place,” Fran’s partner replies dryly, his eyes flicking over to me.

“She doesn’t need rescuing, Mr. Balthier, alright?” Jonan throws his head back and gives a hearty laugh. “Oh, are you jealous that you can’t have  _this?_ ” He runs his hand down my side, digging his fingertips into my side; I fight a laugh I don’t want to laugh, shoving his hand away. Taking my moment of weakness, Jonan hooks a finger under my chin and presses his lips to mine in a firm, possessive kiss. I roll my eyes, pushing him away from me. My cheeks are hot and I know they’re bright red. Not because of Jonan, but because of his words.  _You're jealous that you can’t have this?_ I suppress a shudder.  _Oh, but he could steal it away so very easily, Jonan._

“Absolutely not,” Balthier retorts, crossing his arms. “I apologize; I had no idea  _Shera_ relished in abuse.”

“For the gods’ sake, Balthier,” I snap, finally giving Jonan a less-than-hard smack across the face to get him off me. Laughing, the boy pulls his arm away, straightening his canvas shirt and taking my abandoned bottle when I hop off the crate to join Balthier’s side.

“Well, it was nice catching up. Forget your payment next time?”

“In your dreams,” I scoff, grabbing Balthier’s elbow and dragging him into the swarm of Nalbina. In a lower voice, I speak to the elder sky pirate. “That boy needs to find himself a mistress or something.”

“He’s certainly an interesting young man,” Balthier replies. “He’s always this childish?”

“Like I said, I ruined his life early on,” I shrug. “He’s both vengeful and a bit screwed in the head.”

“You say you ruined his life. What exactly does that entail?”

“… Getting his father killed by the imperial army and then letting him be tortured for information he didn’t have for a year.” I sigh. “He was twelve and I was reckless.”

“I see.” Once we’re free from the crowd, I let his arm go. The others stand by the chocobos, waiting. Suddenly, a familiar smell catches my nose and I turn to Balthier.

“Mint?”

“Yes,” he replies, holding up a simple, small wooden box. “I thought I might treat myself.”

“Isn’t that an Archadian thing?” Vaan asks, his nose crinkling at the smell. “I hate that stuff.”

“Seriously?” I raise an eyebrow. Then I remember: I’m not supposed to be Archadian. Well, not  _super_ Archadian—the accent pretty much gives it away. I shake my head. “I’ve never tried one, just smelled it in marketplaces. Don’t you people like cinnamon instead?”

“Yeah, hot instead of cold,” Penelo nods. I look at Basch and Ashe. The princess shakes her head and her knight sighs.

“I was raised in the Republic of Landis, but I, too, prefer not to taste such a harsh flavor.”

“Is it really  _that_  bad?”

“I think so,” Vaan shrugs.

I turn to Balthier, waiting expectantly. The pirate sighs, dropping a red and white candy into my palm. Eyeing the sweet as if I’ve never seen it, I shrug and plop it in my mouth. Everyone waits in silence, Fran looking quite amused at the antics of her hume companions. Finally, I nod, fighting a relieved smile.  _Still the same._

“I like it.”

“Oh c’mon,” Vaan groans. “What, were you raised by aliens on a deserted island?”

“Something like that,” I reply.

Laughing, Penelo shakes her head and climbs onto a chocobo, Vaan coming up behind her. I pay them no mind, savoring the last of the flavor and absently handing Basch the money bag. He accepts it with a nod of thanks and helps Ashe onto her ride. He then sits on his own chocobo. Huffing, I give in to my craving and swivel around, giving Balthier my best pleading eyes.

“Is there a chance I could have another for the road?” He stops stroking his bird’s beak and raises an eyebrow at me.

“Selfish, aren’t we?”He asks, raising an eyebrow. I shrug. “Fine. I’ll give it to you for the price of a rescuing a damsel, as I saved you earlier.”

“You didn’t save me,” I scoff, though I feel my face going red again. He shrugs.

“The offer still stands.”

“Balthier….” I whine. He doesn’t budge, smiling smugly with his arms crossed. He knows he’s caught me. I huff, nodding toward the rest of the party, who waits for us on the outer path through the city. “In front of them?!”

“If you really want it, you’ll do it,” he shrugs.

I stand a moment longer, glancing at the others. They look distracted enough, I suppose. Irritated, I give in, stepping close and tugging him toward me by the rough edges of his embroidered vest. Quickly, I press my lips to his cheek, pulling away and crossing my arms. He chuckles at my reddening face, handing another mint over to me. I pluck it from his fingers and put the candy in my mouth, turning to ride my chocobo with Vaan. And then I freeze, mortified.  _Vaan and Penelo left together…_

“You’re not the most observant,” Balthier comments easily, looping his thumbs through his belt loops and cocking his head to the side. “Now, are you sitting in front, or am I?”


	34. Identity

“How many days has it been since we left the mountain?” Penelo yawns, stretching her arms over her head after hopping off her chocobo.

“Six,” Basch replies, scratching at his rapidly growing beard. “I could use a razor and a good bath.”

“I second that,” Balthier mutters, glancing over at Fran and tracing the unkept edges of his facial hair.

“You know it’s bad when Basch complains,” I tease, plopping down into the sand.

“I need you to get firewood,” the knight replies, hitting the back of my head gently as he walks by. I groan, falling on my back.

“I  _just_  sat down, big guy.”

“You know Shae’s just fine when she complains,” Vaan mutters. I swipe at his ankles and miss, leaving he and Penelo laughing. Pouting, I throw a fist full of sand at them lazily and drag myself to my feet.

The journey through the Salikawood was exhausting. The wetlands leading up to it were bad enough what with their giant snakes and malboros. After that, we spent two days venturing through the Salikawood, running favors for moogles and opening paths. The air was heavy and a massive bomb chased us through the second half, but we finally made it to the sandy shores of the Phon Coast hardly an hour ago. The closer we get to the city I ran from, the closer I feel to suffocating.

Fran leans back against a palm tree, sharpening a handful of arrows. Penelo sits on the bright grass, watching with great interest gleaming in her eyes and speaking to the viera. Vaan, Balthier and Ashe continue with their usual banter. I give Basch the firewood he needed and stand at the edge of the ocean, feeling the cool waves wash over my boots. I hug my arms to my body and look up at the bright moon. Far down this beach, tucked down beneath a cliff, is the ruins of Jonan’s childhood home. The standing memory of the destruction that follows my carelessness no matter where I go.

“Stargazing?” I turn to see Vaan meandering up to my side, wearing a lazy smile. “It’s pretty cloudy for that tonight.”

“It’s nothing I can help,” I shrug, narrowing my eyes on that moon, wondering if it’s the very same light beaming through Jonan’s window right now. If it’s the same light casting harsh shadows across Vayne’s bedroom. If Balthier looks the same tonight as he did all those nights ago in the jungle.

“Aren’t you hungry? Basch and Balthier are cooking those hares we killed earlier.”

“Are they now? And is Fran eating as well, or would that be considered cannibalism?”

“That’s quite rude, you know,” Balthier calls across the beach.

“Quite,” Fran agrees with a nod, though her eyes hold something far more gentle than anger. And when they meet mine, she leaves Penelo’s side and strides toward us. “Go back to Penelo, Vaan,” she says calmly but sternly.

“Fine, fine,” the thief breathes, running off. The viera stands beside me in silence, staring up at the moon. Finally, she speaks.

“It’s odd,” she murmurs. “Jote can see this very moon, just as we can. Perhaps even clearer.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I nod, shivering against the cool night breeze. “Why’d you send Vaan off?”

“To talk adult speak,” she replies, a teasing tone in her voice. “Not for children.”

“Oh?” I smile. “And what’s that?”

“I feel that you have a question for me. Perhaps even two.” I sigh, nodding and turning my eyes back to the deep blue waves.

“I suppose I do. I was wondering… Back in the Golmore Jungle, why did you let me hear your conversation? You knew I was there; Balthier did not.”

“There is much you want to know,” the viera says simply. “And so, I let you learn a piece to our puzzle.”

“Not fully,” I point out. “What’s Balthier’s deal with nethicite?”

“It’s sensitive,” she sighs. “You will find it soon, I am certain.”

“How soon?”

“Archades, perhaps even sooner. He has a far deeper past than you must believe.”

“Probably, but I don’t suppose anyone has much of an idea of what I’ve done in my time, either.”

“Other than fighting the holy mountain and serving Vayne, I suppose we know nothing.”

The conversation dies there for a minute, and then two. Three. Four. Fran takes a deep breath and speaks her final, quiet words.

“I must warn you: Balthier is a free-spirited hume. Your eyes betray the truth; I only mean to save you effort. His heart is strong on the outside, but soft inside. He falls easily.” Her ear twitches, her scarlet eyes narrowed on the moon. “To capture such a hume might bring you great reward, but he recovers from his falls twice as fast as he makes them.”

“What are you saying?” I ask hesitantly.

“Capture the rabbit before it frees itself from the trap,” she mutters, turning her gaze down to me. “Or it runs.”

“…You want me to cook Balthier?”

“I suppose, if that is your heart’s desire,” she sighs, but I swear I see a smile play across her lips as she turns away. I laugh to myself, stooping down to run my hands through the salt water once more before following her back to camp. That poor viera… she has no idea what she’s talking about.

There’s no escaping my snare.

~|~|~|~|~

The next morning, I feel anything but happy. My body aches, my head pounds, and my mouth is dry. I fix the third problem by snagging Vaan’s water bag and chugging all he has left while he dozes. He notices soon after, however, because Ashe wants to get a move on as soon as possible now that we’re walking the rest of the way. The chocobos couldn’t fit on the narrow Salikawood walkways, and so we dropped them off with the moogles in hopes that someday they might be returned. Picking up my spear and sliding my dagger into my boot, I follow the group in our long trek across the sand.

The day only goes downhill from there. Rain picks up off the ocean and drenches us. The wildlife grows stronger the farther we walk and we get our asses kicked nearly everywhere we travel. By the time Penelo’s exhausted from casting too many spells and blood washes down my skin with every raindrop, night begins to fall yet again. 

“Man, I’m drenched,” Vaan grumbles, shaking his head like a dog. The fire pops and crackles with every splash it receives. Irritated, I shove his shoulder with a scowl. “Sorry, geez.”

“No, keep going,” Balthier says, his voice laced with a distinct “I’m on the edge, no one spark the fuse” tone. “She needs to cool off.”

I glower at him from across the crackling flames, rubbing at my sore shoulder with a wince. Somehow, one of the massive birds stomping around out here on the coast dislocated it earlier. Basch had to help me set it right again; as you can imagine, that was quite the fiasco. Ashe paces back and forth, clutching the Sword of Kings in her hands. Suddenly, she speaks up.

“Once we destroy this Dusk Shard, we hold an advantage over the Imperials yet again.”

“Do you plan on letting the war start?” Balthier asks, hooking an arm around his raised knee.

“I don’t want it to,” she sighs, running a hand down the length of the blade gingerly. “But if that is what must take place to distract Vayne in order for us to crush this once and for all…” Her voice trails off. Fran tilts her head.

“Is it revenge that you desire?”

“I… It may be a part of my motives,” Ashe admits. I push myself to my feet, tucking my trembling hands underneath my arms. The pressure’s building inside and it’s only so long before I burst. “I’ll do what it takes to end Vayne Solidor, even if the war sparks.”

“Even if hundreds die?” I snap, turning to face her with a scowl. “Even if hundreds of innocent lives are lost because of your actions, you’ll continue with this nonsense?”

“It’s not nonsense!” Ashe fires back, rage burning behind her eyes. She’s sick of me questioning her actions. “You don’t know what it’s like to feel what he did! A scar and a few friends dead are  _nothing_ compared to losing an entire nation.”

“ _Nothing?_ ” I sneer, drawing closer. “You’re a bratty little  _bitch_ who’s throwing a tantrum over a bloody  _seat_! War isn’t some valiant effort where both sides lose people who had no ties—it’s a slaughterhouse for men and women with families and careers.” I throw an arm out to the side. “You want your revenge? Go for it! But don’t drag half of Ivalice to Hell with you.”

“Sacrifices must be made!” she insists, nervous as I draw closer. “You’re nothing but a plunderer on the search for gold; what do you know about being an heir?!”

“What do I…?” I throw my head back as a sickening laugh forces its way out. And then the rage returns and I grab her shoulders, shoving her to the ground.

“Shae!” Penelo cries, leaping to her feet and covering her mouth with her hands. Afraid.

“I think it’s about time I set things straight!” I shout, falling down on my knees and lifting Ashe toward me by her collar, hissing. “You’re not the only damn  _royalty_  on this trip!” Stunned, everyone falls into silence as my shaking hands drop the princess and I slowly draw myself to my feet again. There’s no going back now. “My name is Shera Castean  _Solidor_ , daughter to Emperor Gramis Gana Solidor and younger sister to  _Vayne_.” Vaan leaps to his feet.

“But… You said you served him!”

“I  _did_!” I turn to glare at him, the flames casting eerie shadows over my face. My voice cracks, my resolve failing. “I did…” To see the fear, the anger, the confusion in their eyes… My heart clenches and I choke on air. Shaking my head, I turn and run off into the rain, running until I can’t see the glow of the campfire or the shock on their faces or the smoke from damp logs.

I only stop when the toe of my boot catches on a rock I didn’t see whilst sprinting uphill. I land face first in the muddy sand, knocking the breath from my lungs. Spitting the dirt from my mouth, I force myself past the pain and drag my aching body behind a set of crumbled stone walls. It was likely once a home for a sailor or two, but now it’s nothing more than a loose brick slab for me to sit against. I can’t tell if the warmth on my cheeks is rain or tears, but whatever it is, I let it fall until it runs cold. Hunched with my knees pressed to my chest, I hug my legs to my body and stare off into the angry ocean waters.

A whole past I tried to forget, surfaced into the eyes of those I wish would hold me in the highest regard because of who I am, not because of my title. I huff, pressing my forehead to my knees. I knew better than to get so close, to let them see my anger and my scars and my past.  _And they don’t even know about…_ I shake my head, slamming it against my knees once more before beating it against the bricks with my eyes screwed shut. Even if I just slipped away now, ran and hid like I always do, I...

“I doubt giving yourself a concussion will solve anything.”

“Go away.” My voice is raw, broken. Tired.  _I hate it._

“Relax, Princess. I know now at least why you and Larsa are so close.” Upon seeing my glare, Balthier shakes his head and slicks his wilting hair back. Water has drenched clean through his clothing. “Fine, I won’t call you that. I should have suspected who you were with all the clues you threw out.” He puts his hands on his hips, peering down at me. “The name Shera, the ship called the  _Castean,_ the dread of Archades…” He shrugs. “It seems you bested me yet again.”

“How did you find me?”

“The footprints weren’t hard to follow.”

“ _Why_ did you follow me?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits with a sigh. “I doubt Ashe will be pleased by that move, but somehow I can’t bring myself to care.”

I tear my eyes away from him and stare out at the ocean. Heaving another sigh, he steps closer, offering a hand to pull me up. I eye it for a second and then turn to glare at the grass. He shakes his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that how you’re going to be? After I chased you all the way out here to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid?  _You’re_ the one who just told the next Dalmascan ruler you’re the devil’s little sister.”

“…You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have to save you in Nalbina’s dungeon either, now did I?” He nudges his hand closer. “Some say I have a heart of gold, but I prefer to think that I just like you, Shera Castean  _Solidor_.” Huffing, I roll my eyes and take his hand, letting him tug me to my feet. And then I immediately pull away, walking closer to the edge of the cliff to see the ocean clearer. “I never understood the men who decided that the ocean was far more inviting than the skies,” Balthier comments, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” I mutter, kicking a stone and watching it drop into the water. “It looks fairly inviting right now.”

“For the Fate’s sake,” the pirate huffs, gripping my elbow and pulling me from the cliff’s edge. “Haven’t you been running for long enough? Cut the lies.” He frowns, forcing my eyes to meet his. “What do you plan to do about Vayne?”

“I don’t know if I should do anything anymore,” I admit, my eyes falling to the drenched white material of his shirt, eyeing the odd edges that glue themselves to his skin and make his arms appear smaller than usual. “Or if there’s anything I  _can_  do. Nothing will bring Dern back.” I turn my eyes back up to his. “Besides, you’re not the prime example of a man to speak on honesty. I don’t even know who you are.” He doesn’t say anything for a second, brows drawn together and his grip on my elbow loosening. Then he huffs, his hand falling down my arm slowly.

“You should go with us to Archades. As much as I hate to admit it, you’d be an invaluable asset once we’ve arrived.”

“How many times have you been there?”

“Often enough to know the basics of the city,” he replies, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t ever returned?”

“Why would I?” I can’t bring myself to fight anymore. My head’s spinning and light; I can hardly think. “I ran because I hated every part of that place. Why would I return to the very brother who turned his back on me the moment he met me?”

“I don’t blame you,” he shakes his head. “What did Fran speak with you about?”

“She didn’t say?”

“No.”

“…” I try to pull my eyes away from his and down to the olive green and gold vest my hands are splayed across, but they move right back to their target as though they’re magnets meant to be paired.

Balthier’s frown deepens in the silence, but I can’t bring my lips to form the words. So, I use them another way, silencing his next question with a harsh kiss. For the second time since I met him, Balthier is taken by complete surprise, fumbling for the first few moments before finally finding a grip on my waist. The first time…  _Hey, Fran? How old are you again?_ I push the memory away, reaching up a hand to drag through the cropped brunette hair that's practically flattened to his head by the rain. For once, I feel as though I’ve done something right.

Finally, I push myself away, brushing my wet hair from my face and stumbling back. My eyes find the ocean and Balthier’s find me. My eyelids can hardly stay open, my body flat out of energy from the past week. Silent, I drag myself back toward my wall and slide down until I’m sitting. Taking a deep breath, Balthier follows, settling to my right. We sit in the rain for an eternity before he speaks.

“Was that word for word?”

I barely hear the laugh shaking through my chest, but Balthier seems to sense it, breathing out his own chuckle.

“Not exactly,” I mutter, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the brick. “There was more lecturing involved.”

“About?”

“Catching rabbits in traps.”

“… I see.”

“Do you?”

“No.” Another pause.  _This is unlike him…_ “Comfortable?”

“No.” I peel my eyes open.

Shaking his head, he nods toward his shoulder. I sigh tiredly, scooting closer and laying my head on the sharp joint. It’s harder than the wall but somehow more comforting. Just as my eyes fall shut, the rain still pouring down around us, he nudges my side.

“You owe me, you know.”

“For?” I yawn, sitting up to face him. He raises an eyebrow, but I can see that familiar smug glint in his eye.

“You’ve only been paying me a damsel’s rate.” I can’t help the grin that parts my lips as I roll my eyes. Braver than before, I lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips. His lips quirk into a mocking smile. “Much better.”

“Shut up,” I huff, punching his chest gently. He chuckles as I settle against his side again.

“She’s returned to herself.”

I don’t have a reply, so I close my eyes and let sleep dig its claws into my consciousness and drag me down until it drowns me. Next thing I know, I’m dreaming of the peaceful days of reading books to young Larsa and teasing Vaan through the desert. 


	35. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO THINGS:   
> 1\. SORRY FOR THE LACK OF AN UPDATE LAST WEEK- IT WAS MOVE-IN FOR COLLEGE FRESHMEN (STILL CRAZY TO ME THAT I'M AN ACTUAL ADULT NOW LOL).
> 
> 2\. I WON'T BE ABLE TO UPLOAD TWO CHAPTERS AT A TIME ANYMORE BECAUSE I CAN'T WRITE AS MUCH AS I USED TO WITH COLLEGE BEATING ME TO DEATH. STILL, ONCE A WEEK YOU GET A "CHAPPIE" AS I CALLED THEM IN THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH ON WATTPAD
> 
> THAT'S ALL, FOLKS

_~5 months before~_

_A month. That’s how long I’ve waited for word from Dern and I have yet to receive a thing. I’m tired of playing Jonan’s games and earning money through simple one-man jobs. I pace back and forth down the main hallway of the ** **Castean****. No, I’m heading out to find him. Dern never disappears without assuring me of his safety. He ran off a few times in the beginning, but he always returned within a week. He always made sure I knew he was alive. But this… Something’s gone awry. I just know it._

_The first place I stop is the very same village he entered to make sure he was captured. He did it to make sure I could escape. He wouldn’t know where I went; he wouldn’t have any information for them. Surely the Imperials caught on within weeks. Archadians aren’t fond of having useless materials hanging around their cells. Dern only has so much time left, ** **if**** they haven’t killed him yet.  ** **If**** they’re still using him as bait. I know they’ll be waiting; I can't find it in me to care._

_I pull the black hood of my heavy black cloak over my head and hurry into the village. People wander through the dirt streets, eyeing me as I pass. I ask only the most socialized people where the sky pirate was taken. The blacksmith, the stablemaster, the general goods salesman. No one knows, shrugging me off with suspicious stares. If they turn me over to the Imperials, all the better. They’ll kill Dern if I’m not fast enough to set him free, whether I’m captured or not. Finally, the gruff innkeeper has something to say._

_“Ah, yes. The poor lad. Captured because of one affiliation or another.” The burly man leans an arm forward on the counter, nodding toward the trio of Imperial guards huddled in the back of the lobby. “Them soldiers were talkin’ about a gentleman they took away from here ‘bout a month ago.”_

_“Any mentions of where they took him?” I ask, keeping my voice low and my face shielded._

_“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The innkeeper chuckles, shaking his head when I scoff. “Why're you so interested, girly?”_

_“A favor for a friend,” I reply, staring down at the wooden countertop. “What’s it to you?”_

_“I generally make a profit off information,” he shrugs, his voice hardly over a mutter as he leans closer to my face. “So what’re you offering?”_

_“How often do you head out to Archades?” I ask, glancing up at him. He stares back thoughtfully._

_“About once every full moon.” His chapped lips turn up into a greedy smile. I nod, reaching down into my cloak and pulling a stack of wooden blocks free. The man stares at the pile on his counter._

_“Six sandalwood chops for all you know.” I nudge the stack toward him. “This’ll get you to the higher status shops in Archades. Buy better stock, sell your rooms for a higher price.”_

_“Now that’s a deal I can’t turn down,” he chuckles, taken aback by my offer. “The gentleman? They took ‘im to a base outside Archades. Some Imperial setup they got for prisoners less… ** **significant**** to the public.” He leans so close that I can smell the cheap ale on his breath and his voice lowers to a barely-audible snarl. “Now,  ** **princess,**** hand over the rest of them blocks before I raise a holler.”_

_“Ah, so you’ve seen through my impenetrable disguise,” I reply in a sickeningly sweet voice, wrapping my fingers around his collar and jerking him forward so our noses are nearly pressed to each other. “Good job, old man. Unfortunately, I don’t have any more chops on me. Wasn’t counting on a greedy, grimy innkeep throwing my plans to Hell.” I stare daggers into his startled eyes. “Tell you what: you keep your mouth shut or I’ll make sure that tongue of yours hits the grave long before you do.”_

_“You wouldn’t,” he huffs, though he jerks away and straightens, snatching up the sandalwood chops I offered originally. “Take your leave, then.”_

_“Thanks for the tip,” I reply, nodding and turning to quickly exit the inn._

_The Imperials make no move to follow me, though I see them watching my every move as I briskly pace out of the village. Rather than returning to my cloaked ship, however, I hurry toward a nearby cliffside. Dragging myself up the side of the rock, I stand on the very top, turning to search for an Imperial base. And there it is, a low-set building deep within a shield of heavy forestry. Taking a deep breath, I slide down the towering rock formation and rush toward the base. ** **Dern…**** I shake my hair out of my face, ducking under a heavy branch as I run.  ** **Hang on just a little longer.****_

The sunlight is warm and bright and, paired with the gentle sea breeze, the weather makes up for the dramatic events of last night. I feel the steady rise and fall of a chest against my cheek and I come to the conclusion that I fell there when Balthier slumped in his sleep.  _I don’t want this to end._ But the second I shift to get more blood flow to my stiff leg, it’s over. Balthier takes a deep breath, awakened by my movement. I sigh, thinking this must be it. He’ll push me away, pretend nothing ever happened, and keep his distance like I know everyone else will.

But instead, I feel a hand brushing the hair from my face absently and another resting on the raised ridge of my hip. I peel my eyes open and stare out at the bright blue sea, the precise color of Jonan’s eyes. The only sounds that surround us are the chirps of the birds and the waves crashing against the sandy shore below. The hand resting on Balthier’s leg twitches; he realizes I’m awake.

“Sleep well?”

“Decently,” I yawn, though I don’t move away. Not yet. “You?”

“I’ve slept worse, I suppose.”

I scoff, forcing myself to sit up and face my problems head on, not that there are any here—yet. His green eyes practically glow in the sunlight, a familiar sight I can’t place. I suppress the thought and stretch my arms over my head. Before either of us can speak again, the grass crunches behind me.

“Vaan,” Balthier huffs, leaning back against the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“Basch told me to look for you,” the thief replies, forcing his eyes to skim over me.  _Way to sour my mood_.

“To make sure I didn’t kill Balthier, you mean,” I grumble, standing and plopping myself back down on the edge of the cliff, hugging my knees to my body. “Well, there he is. Looks like big bad Shera didn’t get him.”

“Shae…” Vaan sighs, scratching at the back of his head. “It doesn’t matter who you are, you know. You can still come with us.”

“And what does Ashe think about that?” I bite back. There’s a long pause.

“She’s beginning to wonder if you were a spy for Vayne all along. That it’s no coincidence the Imperials found us so often.”

“Exactly.”

“… Were you?”

“No,” Balthier answers for me, the tips of his boots appearing at my side. His voice is light, teasing. “She’s smart, but not  _that_ smart.”

“Gee, thanks,” I sigh, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath of the sea’s fresh, salty air.

“Well, anyway, Fran looked ahead and found a little village of hunters and their families at the shore. Ashe wants to head there right away so we can regroup.”

“They’ve already left?” Balthier asks.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like Her Royal Highness,” the pirate mutters. There’s another pause and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Coming, Lady Solidor?”

“Don’t you dare,” I scoff, shrugging his hand off. My voice isn’t nearly as venomous as I wanted it to be.

“It wasn’t really a question,” Balthier replies smoothly. “I fooled you yet again. Seems to be easy these days. You can’t get soft now.”

“Soft?” Vaan laughs. “This is the girl who threw the future queen onto the ground without any hesitation.”

“I do recall a rather nasty word or two being thrown in there as well. Seems you ran away too early for your manners classes, Shera.”

“Shut  _up.”_

“I wonder if she can still set a table,” Vaan muses.

“With lace napkins and all?”

“For the love of the gods,” I snap, standing and pushing past the two.

I don’t miss Vaan’s victorious cheer and Balthier’s chuckle behind me, fighting my own smile. Those two will never fail to win me over with their obnoxious natures, will they? We trek down the hill and then Vaan takes the lead, shouting about this and that while Balthier slings his gun onto his shoulder and strides at my side, speaking in a low voice.

“Trying to skip out on the hardest part, are we?”

“You know me,” I breathe. “Always running away.”

“So I’ve heard. I suppose it’s time to change that pattern, hm?”

“It’s not hurt many so far,” I shrug. Balthier stops and I do as well, raising an eyebrow.

“And what should you all do if something happened to the Leading Man?” he asks, pressing the side of his gun to my chest. “I’d need a Leading Lady to replace me. I disapprove of any of the other woman taking the job.” I fight a smile, gently clutching the weapon. Before I can reply, Vaan calls to us with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Hey, lovebirds! We caught up!”  _Love?_ I shake my head and pick up the pace, chasing the blonde boy.  _No, not since Dern._

“Look who’s returned,” Basch comments, getting patting my shoulder. “I’m glad to see you’ve stayed loyal.”

“I’m on neither side,” I remind him. “Just here for personal vendettas and such.”

“Right,” he nods, but his voice is light, relieved. The man’s seen enough betrayal in his lifetime.

“And no one welcomes me,” Balthier points out, feigning disappointment. Fran raises an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head. “No, I didn’t expect anything from  _you._ ”

Once we reach the top of the grassy hill, I can see an expanse of beach stretching quite far out. Huts and hunters line the sandy shore, a merchant or two waving their hands around and shouting at their stalls. Vaan and Penelo laugh about something before running off.

“Race you to the water!”

“Hey, no fair! Pen!”

Basch wanders away and Fran heads off to buy more arrows. I take a deep breath, walking by Ashe. She glances at me before turning her gaze back to the water. Finally, feet dragging through the sand, I decide to speak up.

“Listen, I apologize for—”

“Oh!” She trips over something in the sand, caught only by Balthier’s lightning quick grasp. Stunned, she stares up at the pirate for a moment before straightening with a huff. She quickly starts to pace away and I fight the annoyance tugging at my growing impatience. Balthier speaks up once she’s a few feet away.

“Why the capital?”

Ashe is dead silent for a moment, the sounds of laughter and seagulls and waves filling in the gap. Eyes narrowed, she replies.

“The nethicite. I must destroy it.”

“Are you sure?” There’s something bitter in Balthier’s voice as he rests his hands on his hips. “You don’t want it for yourself?” I cross my arms.  _Just what are you playing at?_ Ashe doesn’t reply so the pirate continues. “Use its power to restore Dalmasca—something like that?” He shakes his head, spreading his arms out to the side. “The best intentions invite the worst kind of trouble.” A pained expression flits over his face and I fight a wince.

“Lusting for ever greater power, blinded by the nethicite,” Ashe muses. Suddenly, she turns on her heels frowning at him. “Is that how you see me?” Balthier sighs, pacing past her.

“That does sound like someone I know.”  _Someone you know…?_ Left with little choice, Ashe and I follow him to where the others have gathered at the shore, not quite allowing them to enter our vicinity. “He was obsessed with the nethicite. It was all he cared about. He’d babble nonsense, bling to aught but the Stone’s power.” I can feel my heart sinking lower and lower with each word, my mind rushing a million miles an hour.  _It can’t be…_ “He’d talk about some ‘Eynah,’ or what is ‘Venat’? No matter.” His green eyes glaze over, eyebrows drawn together.

“Everything he did, he did to get closer to the nethicite, to understand it. He made airships, weapons…”  _No, no, no, no, no…_ “He even made me a Judge.” I stop walking then, my knees too weak to continue as nausea washes over my head like the ocean waves that lap at the shore.

“You were a… a Judge?” Ashe asks, stunned. He walks up to the water’s edge, shrugging.

“Part of a past I’d rather forget. It didn’t last long. I ran. I left the Judges… and him.”

“Cidolfus Demen Bunansa,” I breathe, earning both pairs of eyes. Balthier nods, his gaze falling to the ground before tracing back out to the ocean.

“Draklor Laboratory’s very own Doctor Cid. That’s when he lost his heart to nethicite, lost himself.” He shakes his head. “And I suppose that’s when I lost my father.” Ashe gasps, staring long and hard at his back. But my shock is three times the strength of hers, a cold sweat breaking over my skin and my head spinning uncontrollably.

“Don’t follow in his footsteps.” He sighs. “I ran away. I couldn’t stand seeing him like that, a slave to a Stone.”  _And you think your brother could?_ “So I ran, free at last. Funny I went for the Dusk Shard. How could I have known that it was nethicite? And then, of course, I met the two of you.” He shakes his head. “All that running, and I got nowhere.”  _And he got ** **nowhere****? _ “It’s time to end this, cut my ties to the past.”

“And what of your brother?” I force, my hands clenched at my sides. Ashe turns to stare at me, confused. Balthier doesn’t look back. “You left him behind after your father abandoned you both and when he needed you the most.” I step toward him, my voice cracking as my throat tightens. “He sent you a cry for help and you never…” I shake my head. “That letter you received just months ago pleading for help? That was  _me._ All I needed was to find the very  _Ffamran_ that Adamar needed the most.”

“I couldn’t help—” His voice is oddly quiet.

“Of course you couldn’t,” I snap. “You were too busy  _running_  while your brother was being  _killed_.” He doesn’t reply. “You knew, didn’t you? Ever since Larsa mentioned Dern, you knew who  _he_  was and who  _I_ was. Didn’t you, Balthier?”

“You didn’t see me attacking you for your choices last night,” he retorts. “Fran and I were tied up ourselves.”

“Would you have helped him had you been free?”

“… I can’t say for sure.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I just did.”

Unable to take any more, I turn on my heels and rush out of the village. My trembling limbs hardly carry me down the hill before I collapse, emptying my stomach onto the bright grass. It feels like a century later that I stop retching, my skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Choking on air, I drag myself into taller grass and fall, closing my teary eyes with a groan.

It feels like I’m locked in a prison of sweltering heat and screams, of fearful green eyes and cries for mercy for an eternity. I toss and turn, trapped between sleep and consciousness. I can’t breathe half the time, and the other half is spent drowning in sweat or my own startled, tortured cries that leave my partially aware throat sore. Finally, I fall into the dark recesses of sleep.

When I wake again, I sit up gasping. Sweat drips down the side of my face and soaks my hair. Sunlight beams in through cracks in the wooden panel surrounding me. I’m laid on a hammock of white rope, my boots and gauntlet set off to the side on the floor. Tugging my sleeve down over my burn scars, I open my mouth to address the only person in the room, only to be beaten to the point.

“Two days.”

“Why?”

“Illness of some sort,” Balthier mutters, picking at the dirt splattered across one of his rings. “Vaan was hit with something similar, but not quite the same. Penelo says it was food poisoning, Ashe called it heartbreak.”

“… Vaan suffered from heartbreak?”

“ _Her_ diagnosis was for you,” he replies abruptly, green eyes flitting up to meet mine.  _The eyes… How did I never notice? They’re practically identical._ “Though, I’ve not the slightest idea what would’ve caused such a thing.”

“I think…” I sigh, falling back into the hammock and staring at the ceiling. “It was only shock. Shock, and maybe exhaustion.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Listen,” I say, straightening again with a wince. “I’m sorry. About what I said? I just never thought I’d run into Dern’s  _brother_.” I give a weak shrug, glancing down at the wooden floorboards. “I... tried hunting  _Ffamran_ down for a while after Dern... I wanted to...” My voice trails off.

“No need to apologize,” he sighs, finally making regular eye contact with me. “You had every right. But you can’t blame me and Fran for what happened.” He pauses. “What  _did_  happen?”

“… I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, pushing my hair out of my face. “Perhaps another time.”

“Perhaps.” He nods.

“So… Are we headed off to Archades now?”

“As soon as you’re well enough to walk,” he nods again. “You’ve healed quite a bit.”

“Yes, well,” I huff, trying and failing to climb out of the rocking hammock. “I may need help getting out of here.” He merely raises an eyebrow. I sigh, rolling my eyes. “I’ll give you the full reward, you incompetent fool.”

That, at least, elicits a smile.


	36. Old Archades

_"Hey, you sure this rabbit hole's really the way to Archades?" Vaan asks, spinning around to stare at every odd angle of the cavern we've entered. I stretch my aching arms over my head before crossing them with a shudder. Balthier steps up behind me, resting his hands on his hips._

_"Better a hare unseen than a rat in a trap," he muses. He turns to the boy, shrugging. "Then again, if you'd prefer to go knocking on the front gates of the city, be my guest." Green eyes flit toward me. "Though, I wouldn't advise doing such a thing with two Royal Highness's in our midst."_

_"Aw, I thought you'd like to see me kick some Imperial ass at the gates," I pout, winking at Penelo when she giggles. Her smile falls in mere moments._

_"But what about once we're inside? Won't they at least recognize Shae? The city watch'll find us."_

_"We'll do what we can to blend into the crowd," Ashe reassures her. "Our names may be notorious, but our faces are not far-known. Most of them, anyway."_

_"I can't help that **this** is where we're going!" I protest, rolling my eyes._

_"True, true," Vaan nods. "Ashe is our princess, and we didn't even recognize her."_

_"I noticed," Ashe mutters._

_Vaan turns to me with hope gleaming in his gray eyes. "How long's it been since you left? Maybe they won't recognize you either."_

_"Six years," I reply, sighing._

_"It's been a long time, then!" he cheers, grinning. Balthier sighs, shaking his head._

_"Yes, but..." He sighs, glancing at me. "How to word this? Shae has quite the... **unique** face, hard to forget."_

_"Unique?" I retort, raising an eyebrow._

_"Distinguished," he shrugs. "You were the idol of Archades, were you not? An upheld standard of beauty, even with your distinct differences to the rest of House Solidor. To me, at least, you look practically the same, if not even more likely to leave a striking impression."_

_"... Was that a really long, round-about way to call Shae pretty?" Penelo giggles._

_"I was merely stating facts," Balthier replies a bit sharply, turning to face the rest of the cavern and scratching at the back of his neck. I laugh, shaking my head. **Striking.**_

I stare up at the looming buildings and speeding buses in the distance, a shudder rippling down my spine and goosebumps coating every inch of my skin. Even being here in the home of the lowest of the low... It brings back a flood of memories I'd rather not remember. Balthier yawns, stretching his arms over his head. Basch and Ashe step out of the elevator chamber, the last to leave the end of the cave we cleared to get here.

A smile plays on Balthier's lips and it makes me uneasy. After all, all I've done since the Phon Coast is wonder why he never answered our cries for help. Why he turned his back on a brother who never truly wronged him. Had he been in such danger, I've no doubt that Dern and I would have dropped all we were doing and pursued him until he was set free and recovering in safety. I shake my head; there's no use in thinking on things I can't change, I suppose. Though, I can't help but wonder...  _Does he regret it?_

"Whoa!" Vaan cries, sitting on the edge of a rundown stone porch rail. "It smells less like a capital and more like a sewer."

"Even empires have need of sewers," Balthier replies, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops. "The runoff from Archades proper pools here: those who lack papers to live in the city itself."

"The mighty who have fallen, and the fallen who would be mighty," I muse, stepping further into the street. "Their eyes never leave Archades."

"I guess it must be a lot nicer than this place."

"Oh, to be sure," Balthier nods. "Archades reeks of a different filth."

"Come on," I tease, nudging my shoulder against his. "It's not too bad if you remove a select group of people at its head."

"Whatever pleases you to believe," he sighs. "Let's be off!" The others start to gather around us, waiting as the pirate's eyes turn up to the city looming in the distance. "We can follow our noses to Draklor."

We start our walk into the slums of Old Archades, earning the bitter glares of the less fortunate and the suspicious stares of hardworking men and mothers. I duck my head down upon Basch's suggestion, hiding behind the shorter strands of my hair that always pull free from my braid. All too soon, I hear whispers and see a group of older women pointing at me. Upon seeing my full face when I move to look at them, their eyes go wide and I cringe, moving closer to Fran's back in an attempt to hide.

"I don't like this," Vaan mutters uneasily. "They're staring at us like they know something we don't."

"Our appearances?" Ashe suggests, though she notices a young woman whose eyes are locked on me with her face as pale as a freshly pressed linen sheet.

"Far from  _us,"_ Balthier grumbles, stopping and glancing toward a beggar to his right. Sighing, he plucks three gold coins from his pocket and drops them in the blind man's tin cup. "I apologize, but I'll be needing these." With that, he plucks a pair of dark glasses similar to Al-Cid's off the man's face and hands them to me.

"What's this?!" the man demands, scowling.

"Hm?" Balthier replies boredly. "I suggest you keep your mouth closed or I'll let the entire populace know you  _can_ see. You know, miracles and all that riff-raff."

"What...?!" the man sputters. Defeated, he falls back into his old seat, staring into nothing once more to play the part of a blind beggar. Sighing, I swipe a smudge of some dark oily substance off the shades and slide them on over my eyes.

"I know it's not the best disguise, but it's better than nothing," Balthier murmurs, turning to face forward once more. "Just remember—you're blind now. Someone needs to guide you."

"Vaan?" I huff, screwing my eyes shut and clutching the boy's hand. He stifles a laugh as I stumble along, refusing to open my eyes for fear of breaking character. In order to play the blind man's part, you first must become as close to the real thing as possible.

"Excuse us!"

"Pardon her!

"We're terribly sorry, it's just my friend here..."

 _They must be **trying** to push my every button. _I clutch Vaan's hand tightly, a warning to my irritation. He only mocks me further, knocking me into people and apologizing for my impediment.  _Let's hope no one asks for our names._ I stumble again and Balthier makes a comment about how I play my role far too well. I scoff.  _Why are there so many stairs?_

"The entrance should be up this way..." our Leading Man starts, his voice trailing off as quickly as it came.

"Entering the capital?" someone asks in a gruff voice. I peel an eye open to see a pair of Imperial officers standing at the top of a set of stairs. "Have credentials?"

"N-not exactly—" Vaan starts.

"Then away with you!" the guard cries. "Get back, lowlife. You can't come in without the right information."

Sighing, the boy tugs on my arm and pulls me after him. We move to regroup behind a building nearby, out of the Imperials' sights. I open my eyes, lifting the shades onto my forehead upon seeing no one else around us. Sighing I cross my arms and turn to speak to Ashe when a voice breaks through our silence.

"Well, well, well... there's a sight for sore eyes. Didn't think I'd be seeing you again. Not here."

"Oh wonderful," Balthier scoffs, turning to the shadows beneath the building beside us. "Enter the streetear." A man in ragged green and yellow clothing steps into the light, chuckling and twisting the bangle on his wrist. My eyes narrow on his oddly familiar face.

"A pirate would do well to smile. Wouldn't want to sour his reputation." He walks toward us, Balthier crossing his arms with a scowl.  _Why do I recognize him...?_

"You know this guy?" Vaan asks, frowning.

"An old... friend. He's a streetear—a peddler of rumor and hearsay, by the name of—"

"Jules!" I blurt the word the same time Balthier says it, earning a curious look. Basch sighs, scratching at his thick blonde hair.

"It seems as though you both have far more connections than you originally thought."

"Unfortunately," I huff, resting my hands on my hips. "He'd bite a gil given to him by his mother, and shave it in half to pay for her funeral."

"Sometimes an ear with tight purse string's the order of the day," Jules shrugs, turning back to flash an unsightly smile. "Like when a pirate decides he fancies going  _up_ in the world."

"To the city?" Vaan asks, cocking his head to the side. "You know a way?" Jules swivels around.

"In Archades, knowledge is power. And power has a way of opening doors, boy. Now, a fool will buy a sack of feathers for his pillow, but a wise man..." He cackles, shaking his greasy black hair out of his dark eyes. "He'll buy the whole stinking cockatrice and get his fill of meat into the bargain." Jules holds out a hand winking at Vaan. "So, wise man, how does fifteen hundred gil sound?"

"What?! No way!" Vaan cries, stepping back defensively and shaking his head.

"You would do well to learn the ways of the world, boy, lest the world have its way with you."

"No one's having their way with anyone," I snap, nudging my way around the boy. "Where's Jonan?"

"I'd deny knowing the name, dearest, but I've the inclination that we've met before," Jules replies with a sneer, crossing his arms. "Tell me: who are you again? Shae the sky pirate? No, that's merely a façade." He paces past me, turning back on his heels to flash a disgusting grin. "Ah, that's it. Lady Shera Castean Solidor—I give you my deepest apologies." He bows clumsily and I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to push him face-first into the mud.

"Quit the antics," I demand, crossing my arms. "I'll only ask once more: where is Jonan?"

"Need I remind you that Imperial guards, issued by Vayne himself, are just around the corner?" Jules shrugs, though a sickening smile twists up onto his dry lips. "Pay the fee and get your answers or I cry wolf."

"Now you've done it," Balthier sighs, turning his irritated glare to me. I huff, sulking.  _How was I supposed to know he'd do **that**?_

"Fine," Vaan mutters, turning to Basch and gathering the coin necessary. He jerks his hand away from the sleazy man's touch after handing over the payment, cringing.

"Bright boy," Jules murmurs, counting the coin in his hands before tucking it away. "You learn fast. I call this meeting to order. Heard any rumors in town?"

"Actually, I did hear about a man who picked a bag of coins out of a barrel," Vaan replies.

"Bags in barrels, eh...? A boy would do well to bring that morsel to a man named Beasley near here. Tell him what you've heard."

"I'll go with you," Penelo offers, rushing up to Vaan's side and taking hold of his elbow. Vaan nods and they take off in search of the man named Beasley. They're street urchins—they should have no difficulties in soaking up some information from the rest of the beggars and lowlifes.

"Jules," I say sharply, catching the man's attention. He rolls his dark eyes with a slight smile. "Jonan. Where is he?"

"Somewhere inside the city," Jules shrugs. "Boy's probably at a bar surrounded by empty bottles." That crooked grin crosses his face once more and his dark eyebrow arches. "What's the problem, Princess? Lookin' to pay up?"

"I've already paid my dues," I scoff, crossing my arms uncomfortably. "You just tend to know what he's up to."

"Ah, so you're starting to care then? You know, the foolish boy's quite fond of you."

"He's  _fond_ when I haven't paid," I snap, ending the conversation.  _Surrounded by empty bottles... That does seem to be where he finds himself these days. Always near a tavern..._ I shake my head, pressing my back to the stone wall and shuddering.

_"I ruined his life early on. He's both vengeful and a bit screwed in the head."_

_"You say you ruined his life. What exactly does that entail?"_

_"... Getting his father killed by the imperial army and then letting him be tortured for information he didn't have for a year. He was twelve and I was reckless."_

_"I see."_

_But has it really come to this, Jonan?_ I sigh, turning away from Balthier's gaze and waiting impatiently for the orphans' return. Ashe and Basch look the most uncomfortable, caught by this unknown acquaintance of mine and Balthier's. Jules merely sits on the stone steps to my left, legs crossed and a bored look on his dirt-smudged face. The very man who caught sight of a vengeful boy and fed him lies to keep his pirating dream a fantasy on the horizon for so long...

The very same man who tricked Jonan over and over again until the boy had no choice but to wreak havoc on people's lives until he was a wanted criminal all across Ivalice at only eighteen. The same boy who hides in the bottom of a bottle and runs from his fate because he fears the bitter hatred and black death that hung as a cloud over my head for so long. Because he fears losing what he's so cheaply bought. I frown, closing my eyes and hitting my head against the stone wall behind me.  _Because, ironically enough, he's afraid of losing me._

"I see your mind's hard at work." I glance up to see Basch leaning against the wall beside me. "Is there something we should be worried about ahead?"

"No, it's nothing," I sigh, shaking my head. "Just thinking."

"About Jonan?"

"... How'd you know?"

"You seemed troubled upon receiving Jules's news," he replies simply, his blue eyes soft and amicable. "Is this young man a close friend of yours?"

"I... don't know," I huff. "I suppose we have a lot to despise each other for, but even in our worst moments, we've always come back to each other like old friends." I kick at the dirt uneasily. "Sometimes... I worry about him. He's holding the weight of the world on his shoulders—he never realized what he was getting himself into, and so now he's finding his own way to hide." I give a gentle, bitter laugh and nod toward Jules. "That scum bag's the very man who dragged him into this mess. It's bad enough that I ruined his life at it's very start, but still..."

My voice trails off and I shrug as if my words carried no weight. I want to crawl into the dilapidated house behind me and hide from my shame, from my anxious thoughts and jitters. But that would be a return to my oldest habit—running. Basch sighs, facing the princess across the patchy grass.

"It seems to me that  _you're_ the one with all the weight upon your shoulders."

"I'd like to think others have it worse."

"You've been on the run for far too long," he replies dryly, turning to look down at me. Balthier's been watching for a while now, listening, but now he speaks.

"I know you know that tale of my escape," he muses, finally looking at me. " _Dern_ must have told you that much. But," he continues with a shrug, "would you care to share just how  _you_  did it?"

And so I do. I start from the very beginning, when Gramis brushed off the Senate and all tradition and had me upheld as any "pure-blooded" Solidor, despite my beginnings as the result of a hasty affair between a beautiful traveling merchant and an enchanted emperor. I explain how Vayne tricked me into murdering my two elder brothers, an execution meant for traitorous bastards. I smile as I speak of my first taste of freedom and meeting Dern for the first time and frown when I struggle through my rash actions at Bur Omisace. And I stop at Jonan's generous donation of gil that leaves me indebted today. Purposely, I don't tell much of Dern, and I don't go nearly far enough to explain what happened to him. Just enough tale-telling to lift my past from my back the slightest bit.

"I don't think I'll ever complain again," Vaan laughs nervously. He and Penelo returned about halfway through, standing back and listening with innocent ears. I shake my head, pulling my shades back down and forcing a smile.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm still doing just fine, so whine all you want to. I'll listen, at least."

"Should you ever find yourself in need of the throne's power, I'll be sure to spread this story in a bit more...  _precise_ manner," Jules chuckles, standing. He turns to face Vaan. "You told him just as I told you? Good boy!"

"I'm not sure what any of this has to do with going  _up_ in the world," Vaan admits flatly.

"Oh? Then you were too enraptured by Lady Solidor's tale to notice that the guards ran past mere minutes ago, hm?"

"What?!" he peers around the corner. "No way! They're gone!" He turns back to Jules, grinning. "Now's our chance! Thanks, Jules." He grabs Penelo's hand and drags her around the corner to the stairs, hurriedly, Ashe stands, brushes the dried grass from her legs, and hurries away with Basch.

"Never thought you'd go for such a meager price," Balthier comments, raising an eyebrow at Jules and fixing one of the cuffs on his shirt.

"A pirate should know that words are worth gil uncountable," the dirty man replies easily. "Here's some words for you: the prodigal Bunansa son's come back to the Imperial roost with the nation's betrayed princess at his side. See? Words of much value, these."

"Bah."

With that, Balthier turns on his heels and charges away, gripping my wrist and dragging me after him, likely in hopes that I don't stick around to discuss Jonan further. We head toward the steps leading up into Archades, catching up to the others. Balthier releases my arm at the last second, leaving me stumbling on the steps and catching myself with a wince.

"I'm  _blind,_ Balthier," I remind him, looking up with a teasing smile on my lips. The sky pirate scoffs, stepping back down to drag me to my feet and link my arm through his.

"Getting a little too into the part, aren't we?"

"That's all I'm good for, it seems," I laugh, forcing my worried thoughts far, far away.  _Jonan... Are you alright?_


	37. Archades

The city is just as I remember it: people with powdered noses, districts of towering buildings, and rounded buses speeding through the sky. Vaan rushes ahead, breathless and awed by the hundreds of architectural wonders and thousands of people bustling through the streets paved with the same tawny bricks and blue-tinted glass.

“You’re gaping like a fish out of water,” Penelo teases, stepping up to his side. I shudder upon seeing the chillingly familiar sights around me, lost in the hammering of my heart.

“I’m just checking out the city,” Vaan replies, obviously impressed. “Even if it  _is_ the Empire.”

I turn to face Balthier, watching him murmur something to Fran as Ashe and Basch move to talk to the two young orphans ahead of us. Something he says makes them laugh and I fight a smile, listening to them tease the soldier. Ashe allows a small smile at their display of comradery, pleased that we’re finally starting to get along.

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and follow the group as they start to move further into the city. I take hold of Basch this time, still playing the part of a meek blind girl. Just as we start to enter the thicker crowds of the street, Balthier charges to the front of the group and faces us, halting our walk.

“We go our separate ways here. I’ve some business to attend to. We’ll meet again later.”

“Hey!” Vaan protests as the sky pirate starts to walk down a diverging alleyway. Basch grabs the boy to keep him from running after Balthier. Huffing, I hurry forward just enough to catch the pirate’s arm and his attention.

“And where exactly are you off to?” I hiss, scowling.

“I’ve some personal business to attend to,” Balthier replies smoothly, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be blind, Shae?”

“You’re going to leave me alone with  _them_?” I demand, nodding back toward the confused cluster of oddities behind me.

“You’ll be just fine,” he grumbles, though he’s fighting the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“No, I…!”

“I think if you do as I say now, you’ll be quite satisfied with the reward later,” he interrupts, a smug smile now stretching across his face.  _Just what are you hiding?_ He leans down closer toward my ear, keeping his voice low. “And remember, you  _can’t_  see.”

With that, he turns on his heels and heads down the street and out of sight. Sighing, I close my eyes and stumble my way back to the others who stand a few mere feet away, waiting.  _Why so sudden? Was it what Jules said?_ I swallow hard, feeling the blood drain from my face.  _He’s holding it over our heads… Bunansa’s son and the betrayed princess…_

“Shae?”

“Hm?” I look up to see Penelo giving me a curious look. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“About where he could be going? As am I,” Ashe replies coolly, frowning in the direction the sky pirate took off in. “Fran?”

“He will return of his own accord when his business is finished,” the viera reassures us. With that, she turns on her heels and makes for a magick shop. Ashe sighs.

“I suppose we should meet up somewhere soon after we equip ourselves for Draklor.”

“At the end of the road,” I suggest, nodding toward the end of the shopping district. “It would be best to meet there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Vaan shrugs. “I’m gonna go check out the daggers.”

“Where’d all his money come from?” I huff, eyeing Basch. He pats the coin purse at his side, opening his mouth to reassure me. Then his face falls into rare irate expression.

“I’ll return shortly,” he grumbles, charging after the boy. Penelo laughs, chasing him and preparing to give her friend an earful. I sigh, turning to face Ashe.

“I’ve no need to acquire anything more,” she informs me.

“Same here,” I sigh, turning to the end of the lane. “Care to help a blind girl to the end of the road?”

“You make it sound as though you await death at the end of this path,” the princess replies lightly, taking my arm and pulling me along behind her. People part for us, paying no mind to the fact that I’m clearly watching them. I’m wearing shades, therefore, I’m blind. Archadian logic.

It takes no time at all for the others to return, Fran with a satisfied look on her face and Vaan’s cheeks bright red and his hand scratching at his neck. Basch looks proud, patting Penelo on the back while she smiles as always. I try not to catch her contagious grin and turn to Ashe.

“Where to now?”

“I suppose we start toward the laboratory,” Ashe murmurs, turning toward the tallest building of them all. “Do you remember the way?”

“I can certainly try,” I shrug. “But wouldn’t it be odd if  _I_ was the one to lead?”

“Isn’t it odd that no one can recognize you just because you’re wearing glasses?” Vaan counters. I open my mouth to retort when I’m cut off.

“Planning on leaving me behind, were you?”

“Of course,” I fire back, raising an eyebrow at Balthier. “We’ve no use for you anymore, you poor bastard.”

“I believe  _you_ were the bastard child—correct me if I’m wrong,” he counters, the sly smile crossing his face. “I’m not rejoining you here, don’t get your hopes up. We happened upon each other and now I’ll be on my way.”

“Balthier,” I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose. He ignores me and continues on his way. “I suppose we could try to board a bus, though I doubt that will work.”

“And why is that?” Basch asks, frowning.

“The currency here is a bit… different,” I shrug. “You’ll see.”

We carry on to the nearest bus station, Vaan hurrying to talk to the man issuing the machines. I resist the urge to move to stop him, taking a deep breath. The guard instantly turns the boy down, demanding chops in place of gil to send us to the higher level of the city.

“What’s a chop?” Vaan frowns.

“If you lack a chop, you pay coin. That’s… one million gil, thank you.”  _Yeah, okay._

“What?! That’s crazy!” Penelo cries.

“Having a spot of trouble, are we?” Jules grins down at us, standing behind me with his hands on his hips proudly. “I’ve a message from Master Balthier. He’s waiting in Central. He says to come quickly.”

“On this? But we need a… a chop,” Vaan replies. “What is a chop, anyway?”

“When a boy wants information… that’s right. A boy pays. Twenty-five hundred gil sounds about right.”

“A chop is a form of currency in Archades,” I huff, facing the boy and giving Jules the cold shoulder. “More a sign of respect than anything. You have to be a certain rank in society to go certain places and those ranks are achieved by collecting chops via great deeds. Pinewood can be earned from virtually anything, but sandalwood is for those who have done extraordinarily well.” I turn to the trickster, stepping forward, gripping his collar, and pushing him up against the wall. “And I smell the stuff all over you, rat. Hand it over.”

“Have you forgotten where you are, Princess?” he grits between his teeth.

“You haven’t forgotten who I am,” I growl, getting in his face. I can hear citizens nearby whispering, confused and anxious. “Good. I’ll give you five seconds to hand the chops over before I shove my spear where the sun can’t shine.”

“You’d be dragged away,” he scoffs, struggling against my hold.

“Would I? A sleazy lowlife creeps over toward a blind woman—a lowlife from Old Archades, no less. You think we would be stopped if I were to cry wolf and take matters into my own hands? Bribery is a tool I’ve come to use quite often, friend.”

“…Put me down.” Defeated, Jules pulls a stack of chops from his satchel once I release him, scowling at the ground. I accept them with a sickeningly sweet smile and hand them to Vaan.

“You see, Vaan, when a boy wants information, a boy uses his  _resources.”_ I nod to the man behind me. “Preferably not a dirtbag who demands nothing but everything.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Vaan laughs, taking the stack from me.

“Were those from  _Master Balthier?_ ” I ask, adjusting my shades.

“Unfortunately,” Jules huffs, dusting off his clothes. “A friend of Master Balthier’s must be a friend of mine—even if she tries to strangle me.” Fran raises an eyebrow staring harshly at the man with daggers in her eyes. I stand waiting with my arms crossed. Uncomfortable, Jules coughs and turns on his heels, awkwardly strolling away.

“Should we board now?” Ashe asks finally.

“I don’t see why not,” Vaan shrugs, turning to the bus issuer with his arms full of chops. “Hey, can we get on now?” The man stares at us with a pale face, clearly unsure of how to respond to what he just witnessed between us and Jules. Clearing his throat, he nods stiffly.

“Y-yes, to Central you go.”

We enter the rounded vehicle, the cab wavering with every step someone takes inside. I settle on a wide bench beside Vaan and give a sigh of relief. If I hadn’t known that man any better than I do now, we’d be running about performing trifling favors for Archades’ stuck-up civilians. The bus takes no time at all to carry us to the center square of the grand city. Sure enough, as we wobble off the vehicle, Balthier stands waiting for us at the stop. He strides down the short set of stairs upon seeing us.

“Ah, so pleased you could join me,” he greets, looking quite satisfied with himself. “Jules had a morsel for us: a light airship used by Draklor researchers is just up ahead.” He brushes past Vaan to stand in front of me, Ashe, and Basch. “We’ll take that and go in through the service entrance. Let’s make haste, shall we?”

“Service entrance, eh?” I tease, cocking my head to the side. “We’re certainly moving up in the world, aren’t we?”

“You’re looking as ridiculous as ever,” Balthier mutters, eyeing my “disguise.” “Besides, you’re royalty, aren’t you? After all this is finished, you can head home to your riches and what not. I’m not sure I’m impressed by the title of  _Empress Shera,_ though.”

“You’re  _hilarious,_ ” I scoff, tugging on Basch’s arm. “Let’s go, then.”

_~5 months before~_

_The ground is littered with bodies, my skin slashed and burned. I sheathe my sword, throwing my heavy cloak to the ground and swiping a keycard from a soldier’s belt. As the towering steel door slides open, I take a deep breath. Adrenaline pumps through my veins relentlessly, blood rushing through my body faster than it ever has before. I already know what’s happened when there are no soldiers inside to greet me. ** **Vayne, you sneaky little…**** Gritting my teeth, I pick up the pace, running down the path already laid before me by locked doors and blocked hallways._

_Before long, I’m lost in a maze of barred cages, filled with bloodstains and bones. ** **This is the Empire you uphold as a humane, ideal society.**** Choking on the smell alone, I run through the corridor before coming up to a heavy door. I swipe my keycard through the scanner and shove it open. A single cell lies at the back of the room with the bare, emaciated form of Dern strung up by iron shackles._

_“Dern!”_

_I run toward the cage, gripping the cold bars and rattling the door. ** **Where’s the damn key?****  Lashes and bruises and welts mar his skin, bloodshot green eyes lifting to see me. His hair is a greasy, blood-caked mess and his bones are clearly visible beneath his skin. His wrists are smeared with red and purple, pressed constantly to the shackles above his hanging head. I realize with disgust that half of his right pinky is missing, covered in a bloody, old bandage. Across his jaw is the roughest, scraggliest beard I’ve ever laid eyes on._

_“Shae…” he rasps, eyes flickering to something behind me. “Shae, look—"_

_“Ah, a happy reunion at last.”_

_“Let him go,” I demand, not straying an inch from my position facing Dern, fingers clutching the bars of his cage._

_“Years away from home truly have made you lose your sense for good manners,” Vayne sniffs, walking toward me calmly. My jaw clenched, I glare down at the crimson-splattered floor and my hands tighten around the bars. “You should be grateful that your lover here is still breathing.”_

_“Barely,” I snarl._

_“Barely is better than nothing,” he points out. I see a gloved hand rest against the bar to my right before I’m ripped away from the door. He slams me back against the cage, sneering down at me. “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble lately, ** **sister.****  And to think I was going to let you go after all you did during your  ** **great escape****.” He cocks his head to the side, dark hair spilling over his shoulders. “A shame.”_

_“A shame?” I laugh, gripping his ornate lapels and jerking him closer to my face. “Let him go, Vayne.”_

_“You’ve slaughtered hundreds of my men,” Vayne replies coolly. “What’s one of yours?”_

_“You’ve got men to spare,” I retort._

_“Ah yes, but does that make their lives worthless?” He raises an eyebrow. “I do not think so.”_

_“Take me instead, then,” I huff, shoving him backward. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Let him go and take me.”_

_“Why should I release him when I could have both of you?”_

_“What’s ** **he****  have to do with anything?” I snap, throwing an arm back to point at Dern. “So what if he was a Judge? That was years ago! You lose them all the time!”_

_“I fear you misjudge my intentions,” he chuckles. “I need him not; his only purpose…” He grabs my shirt, turning and throwing me to the concrete ground. My head spins, throbbing as he kneels over me, pinning me to the floor. “Is to ** **break**** you.”_

_“Is that so?” I force out, spitting into his face. Staid, he wipes his cheek off with his sleeve, jerking a dagger free from his hip._

_“Let her go,” Dern pleads from his shackles, voice rough and broken. “Do what you want with me but set her free.”_

_“You think your begging will have any effect on a man who’s sought vengeance on his own little sister for six years?” Vayne muses, tracing the blade along the side of my face. “No, my friend. I will set you free once I’m finished, whether that be through death or other means.”_

_“What’re you doing?” I demand as he slices the front of my shirt open, tracing the tip of his blade over my heart. “Vayne…”_

_“Never forget from whence you came,” he replies gently, stabbing his blade into my skin and tracing down to my side, slicing across my stomach. I grit my teeth, writhing against the pain of him tearing through my flesh. “You believe yourself to be one of those ruffians, those ** **pirates**** , and you forget your royal blood and the honor of House Solidor.” He twists the blade, a smile curling across his lips at my sharp intake of breath. I move to shove him off only to have his free hand pin my wrists over my head, twisting for good measure. “It is true that you are not my full-blooded sister, but you are a daughter of House Solidor all the same, Shera. Our father made sure of that.” The blade twists again, digging even deeper as he carves._

_“As the eldest remaining son of the Emperor, I find it in my list of duties to have House Solidor prevail, even if that means I must track down its members or kill its rebels off. As long as we survive, the power of the world is well within my grasp.” He rips the dagger free, blood running from his cuts across my skin and dripping down to the floor._

_“You, Shera, are a rebel, but it would be a shame to kill you. No, take your shattered dignity and leave this place. Word of your presence here has spread already and the people will be expecting an immediate execution if I were to capture you now.” I cry out in pain as the dagger buries itself in my side, my hands curling into fists. “Your hound, however…” He pulls the knife free and steadily heads toward Dern’s cell. Choking on pained breaths, I drag myself onto my hands and knees, clutching my bleeding wounds. Crimson splatters onto the floor as it drips from my chest._

_“Vayne…” I plead, my voice weak as I watch him open the door and walk toward the limp form of Dern. “Please, don’t…”_

_“Begging?” Vayne turns to sneer at me, head tilted with an sort of innocence I know he never possessed. “Do continue.” Upon seeing my stubborn glare, he shrugs haughtily and turns back to Dern. Heart racing, I give up on keeping my façade when he raises the dagger._

_“Wait!” He hardly has time to stop his momentum, glancing at me over his shoulder. Trembling, I shake my head. “Vayne, please. You’ve done enough to him. If you really want to keep swinging that knife around, I’m the perfect target. Just, please… Leave him alone.” He chuckles, crossing his arms and facing me._

_“Apologies. I believe I missed the magic word. Once more?”_

_“ ** **Please**** ,” I grit, scowling up at him. He sighs, sheathing his dagger and twisting his key into the locks on Dern’s shackles. My partner crumples to the ground with a pained grunt, thousands of cuts pulling open on his back._

_“I suppose I can wait until another day,” Vayne sneers, walking past and making sure to send a sharp kick to my ribs as he strides by. “Farewell, my sister. Do take care of your dearest for me. I will eagerly await his recovery.” With that, he vanishes into the depths of the base._

_Gritting my teeth, I drag myself to my feet unsteadily and crouch beside Dern. He grumbles something under his breath, hissing in agony as I pull his swollen arm over my shoulders. Tears pricking at my eyes, I pull him up and ignore all the cries and cringes coming from my best friend. Breathless, I pull him along, hot blood soaking into the waistband of my pants as we go. My shirt is splattered and spotted with scarlet stains._

_“Let’s get you out of here,” I mutter, stumbling toward the exit. My limbs shake with effort, my head spinning, my chest burning. Head tucked into the side of my neck, Dern takes a shuddering breath._

_“Shae… You’re wounded…”_

_“Look who’s talking,” I retort with a weak, pained laugh._

_“Leave me here,” he pleads, trying to stop. I drag him along anyway, teeth clenched together. “Please, Shae…”_

_“Unlike my brother, I’m no sucker for begging,” I snap, giving his body a sharp tug. For once, his heavily muscled figure is a liability. “I’m not leaving you behind. I left the cloak outside, so at least you don’t have to be butt-ass naked all the way back to the ** **Castean.**** ” Huffing, I drag him outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. “C’mon, Dern. You really think I could leave you?” I shake my head, turning my head to press a kiss to the top of his sweaty hair. “I’m not that heartless. Let’s get you home.”_


	38. Draklor Laboratory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super duper sorry for the lack of an update for two weekends in a row. My laptop charger broke and I had no way of updating other than my phone, which is actual trash. Here are your two chapters :D  
> Until then, see you Saturday, my dudes

“Do you think they’re onto us?” Vaan asks, retreating behind our shadowy wall as a trio of Imperial soldiers jogs past.

“It would seem not,” Basch replies, crossing his arms. “Though, this will make our task more difficult still, what with the new detachments of soldiers being sent about.” The man in charge of the three guards that just ran past melts back into the entrance of his post. Sighing, I straighten and shake my head.

“Well, should we head back to Ashe and the others?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Vaan nods, taking off in the direction of the inn where the others await our return. The new information on the Imperials is valuable enough, I suppose, but it was hardly worth the time we spent, even with that time being very little.

“Certainly took your time getting here, didn’t you?” Balthier comments as we weave through the streets. “Off seeing the sights, perhaps?”

“Not likely,” Vaan huffs. “Do you know how long it took to get the chops we needed?”

“Hardly long at all,” I mutter under my breath. “You wanted to shop for knives.”

“What’s that? But I  _gave_ Jules some chops…” Balthier frowns, obvious frustration washing over his face. I shake my head.

“You most certainly did, and I nearly had to strangle them off him. Vaan's  _lying._ ”

“How’d you even know he had them?” Vaan asks, cocking his head to the side. I shrug.

“I’ve a natural sense for any source of currency.”

“Jules…” Balthier grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind me, I hear that rat’s voice pipe up as he draws closer.

“Tsk, tsk. A squad of Judges has been sent to Draklor. You’ll find the service entrance a rather difficult proposition, I’m afraid,” he croons. Balthier steps up to the shorter man, chin lifted and tension burning in the air around him.

“Your doing, no doubt,” he replies stiffly, strolling past. “You knew how the Ministry of Law would move, so you had Shae distracted until the Judges could reinforce Draklor. Of course…” Balthier’s voice trails off and he turns back to stare hard at the lowlife. “Tell me, how much did the Ministry pay for word of the prodigal son?”

“The Ministry? Oh, Judges make poor customers, my friend,” Jules chuckles. “Too many rules, too many laws. Perhaps you didn’t know, Master Balthier, that Draklor is a toy box these days, filled with your lord father’s conceits.” Jules shrugs, approaching the sky pirate. Goosebumps prickle across my skin. I know his type; he’s saving the best for last. “All developed without the Senate’s knowledge, of course. Why, not even the Emperor knew the full extent of Doctor Cid’s operations.”

“Now, here’s the catch: since Vayne had himself declared dictator, nary a peep has come out of that laboratory. I know people who would sell their own mum for the merest scrap of information about the goings-on inside Draklor.”

Balthier hums, glancing back at me. Basch and Vaan have backed off, though wary. I’m the only one left beside them.

“People like… Rozzarian sympathizers worried about the Empire’s weapons programs and anyone else who might be opposed to House Solidor hegemony. So, we create a disturbance, and you get your windfall of dirt on Draklor," Balthier sighs.

“And in exchange for your service, I’ve spoken to a cabbie. When he asks where you want to go, tell him: ‘You know where to go.’ Simple, no?”

“Ah, a deal brokered in true Archades fashion,” I muse, crossing my arms. Balthier’s lips quirk into a dissatisfied smile.

“Why, it’s just like old times, Jules. Brings a tear to my eye.”

“Good to be back, eh? My regards to your lord father, Master Ffamran—er, rather, Master Balthier,” Jules rushes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly upon seeing mine and Balthier’s glares.  _Ffamran and Adamar… Two names I’ve become all too sensitive to._ “Anon, anon.” He laughs nervously. “You know, and I have to admit this as an honest man, I helped both of us out in the long run by gathering a good portion of my reward already.

“You did what now?” I demand, raising an eyebrow.  _Here it is. The sod probably swiped all our gil behind our backs._

“Well,” Jules starts, shrugging with a sly smile on his face. “There are always the corrupt in the Imperial forces. I may have sold some information to a collection of guards for a pretty price.”

“Information?” Balthier crosses his arms, eyebrow arched. “What information?”

“Nothing much,” Jules replies nonchalantly, brushing past me as he begins to disappear into the crowd. He flashes an unsightly grin over his shoulder. “Just a tip about their dearest lost princess and her valiant return to capture the throne.”

“ _Jules!”_ I move to charge after the running man, but Balthier catches hold of my arm and jerks me back.

“There’s no use in beating him to a pulp now,” he shakes his head. “What’s done is done; we’ll just have to be extra cautious.”

“Just what we needed,” I scoff, turning on my heels and starting toward the inn. “What’s the bastard mean by saying he helped us?”

“Knowing of your arrival will certainly help us create that disruption,” Balthier answers, though his voice is doubtful. “Might be more trouble than it’s worth, though.”

“You think?” I mutter.

The inn is packed as we expected, but we wind our way through people smelling of wood chops and strong perfumes to the second floor where more private parties tend to gather. Fran catches sight of us first, pushing her shoulders off the wall and uncrossing her arms. Her ear twitches as Penelo says something.

“Any news?” Ashe asks, standing abruptly. Vaan shrugs.

“They’re moving lots of soldiers arou—”

“Jules told the guards I’m here and now a detachment of Judges is waiting in Draklor,” I interrupt, my voice tight with irritation.

“Oh no,” Penelo breathes, shaking her head and tugging at her pigtails. “Are they coming after us?”

“They don’t know where we are, but we should certainly be careful,” Balthier replies, resting his hands on his hips. “I thought for sure he’d sold me out on  _my_ return, but I underestimated how far he would go.”

“I see you’re having an interesting time, Shera," someone croons. I sigh, turning to face the sandy blonde hair and sky-blue eyes behind me. A white grin flashes bright and a tanned hand finds its place at the base of my back. “How  _are_ we, Darling?”

“Just fine, thank you,” I reply curtly, looking back at Ashe. “We should get moving before they get security closed up too tight. Jules secured a free ride to the laboratory.”

“At least he did that much,” the princess sighs, eyeing Jonan. “Are we ready to leave, then?”

“Can I come? I’m bored,” Jonan yawns. I roll my eyes, stepping away from him. He only follows, grinning like a fool. “That’s a real convincing disguise you’ve got there, Shae.”

“It won’t matter once we’re on that bus.” I scowl up at him, my nose crinkling at his old-alcohol, hasn’t-washed-in-days scent. “And tell your friend I’m dragging him to the pits of Hell once we return.”

“I’ll join you,” he chuckles, ruffling my hair. Ashe nudges Basch and they start to leave in hopes that the rest will follow. Jonan huffs, face flooded with a boyish amusement. “You’re shirt’s all gross. Here, take mine.” He reaches down to pull his shirt up over his head.

“Jonan!” I snap, tugging his shirt back down. Penelo gasps, grabbing Vaan’s elbow.

“He’s got a six-pack!” she hisses.

“So do I,” her friend huffs.

“Just…” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Why are you here?”

“I dunno,” Jonan shrugs. “If you’re worried about it looking weird, we can just take yours off first.” He lifts my shirt and I smack his hands away, fuming. But it’s like being angry at a troublesome child; he only smiles brighter. “Fine, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“ _She_ has a six-pack!”

“So do  _I!_ ”

“We’d best be on our way,” Balthier cuts in tightly, his patience running clean out and his Jonan-tolerance spreading thin. Jonan sighs.

“Yeah, yeah. Go kick some ass wherever it is that you’re headed, Shera.” I’m too tired to fight back as he leans down and presses his usual kiss to my lips. Though, this time it lingers long enough that I can feel both the heat rushing to my face and the irritation radiating off of Balthier. “For good luck,” the boy says simply after pulling away, his smile gentler and more reassuring than taunting. I take a deep breath and nod with a frown, briskly brushing past my companions and hurrying toward the vehicle that’s to carry us far away from here.  _How does he always find me? ** **Why**** does he always find me?_

“Where would you like to go?” the cabbie at the bus asks as we all gather together. Balthier strides past me, stepping up to the vehicle issuer with stiff steps.

“You know where to go.”

“Ah!" The man hesitates, brushing a hand across the brim of his cap. " _There_? You’re certain, sir?”

“Certain,” Balthier nods, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He steps aside as we all enter the bus, piling onto benches and holding onto poles for support. Balthier enters last, sparing me a cold, empty glance before heading the opposite direction to stand beside Ashe. Frowning, I turn to face the view outside the window. The bus takes off with a lurch and we head upward.

“So, this Jules,” Vaan starts. “I know he knows Shae through Jonan, but is some old friend of yours, Balthier? You two seemed… close.”

“Close enough for fisticuffs…” Balthier’s voice is heavily laden with bitter annoyance as he speaks up. “Driver! Faster, if you please. I would be loath to expend any of the violence of my present mood on my companions.”

“S-sir?” the cabbie stutters, looking up into a mirror at the sky pirate. Balthier raises an eyebrow impatiently. “Yes, sir!”

The cab lands on a balcony outside Archades’ gargantuan research facility. As the door slides open, Vaan hops out with Balthier close behind. The blonde looks about with awe in his eyes, his breath stolen away for a moment. I jump down, my chest tight as I set foot on familiar territory I tread upon six years ago.

“Where to?” Vaan asks, glancing over his shoulder at Balthier. The sky pirate picks up the pace, jogging and clapping a hand down on the boy’s back.

“Come, this way.”

We hurry inside past a set of towering glass doors. A round door, glowing a dull red, slides open and allows us access to the laboratory’s main floors rather than the outskirts that we would have been trapped in if it had locked. Balthier slows his pace as the doors hiss shut, signaling that we’ve all entered.

“It’s too quiet,” Basch comments, eyes narrowed on all the empty blue and red passages around us.

“Passing strange,” Balthier agrees, frowning. “There are supposed to be guards here, are there not?”

“That’s what I recall, at least,” I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. “But where’ve they all gone?”

“Maybe we’re just lucky,” Vaan suggests, though it sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself of that point as well.

“Maybe you’re just optimistic,” Balthier retorts.

“Something may be afoot,” Basch warns, turning to face the man leading us. “We proceed with caution.”

“No time for caution,” Balthier responds, shaking his head. Something odd’s in his eyes and his demeanor, but he starts walking again before I can read it. “Step to it! Cid’s chambers are on the top level.”

“Shouldn’t the way up be blocked, though?” I recall, shaking my hair out of my face and tossing my shades to the side on the floor. They clatter across the smooth tile before sliding to a stop beside the wall. “From what I remember, the security process of climbing this tower required a lot of passcodes and switches.”

“From what I remember, I was in this unit far more often than you,” the sky pirate replies coldly, continuing on. I frown, catching an unreadable glance from Fran before following the party.  _Was it something I said…?_

The corridors are still the same as they were when I left. Rounded, paneled with yellows and browns, trimmed with gleaming bronze. Giant red and blue doors mark the end of each passage, indicating the direction and the status of the lock. We come to a stop upon crossing a hallway piled with the limp bodies of Imperial soldiers. Ashe sheathes her sword, scanning the room with her eyebrows drawn together.

“Look at this…” she breathes.

“Who could have done such a thing?” Penelo asks nervously.

“We’ll just have to continue to find out,” Balthier replies, shaking his head and charging down the hallway. One of the soldiers stirs; I find myself rushing to his side before I realize, falling on my knees to hear the words that shudder past his trembling lips.

“Y-You… are with him…?”

“With who?” I ask, frowning. He coughs, shaking his head and gasping a shallow breath.

“He…” He coughs once more, shuddering, and finally falling still. I sigh, standing and brushing my pants off.

“I suppose we follow the trail of bodies, then,” I conclude grimly.

“And  _I_ suppose you’re right,” Balthier murmurs. “This way.” We rush further into the building only to come across a blocked path and an elevator. The pirate comes to a stop outside the lift, looking over his options. “From here, we can travel through the sixty-seventh and sixty-eighth floors.”

“Why would we go to sixty-seven when we could go further?” Vaan asks, frowning. “Aren’t we going after Cid?”

“That we are,” Balthier nods, turning the dial to sixty-eight and pressing the button below. I wait for the doors of the lift to slide open, but no such thing occurs. Instead, a small notch slides open in the wall and a slim scanner slides out. Balthier sighs, shaking his head. “Vaan, hand me your dagger.”

“Huh? Why?” Vaan asks, unsheathing the knife at his hip.

“The key to the elevator is blood,” the pirate replies dryly, snatching the weapon away and pressing the pointed tip to his finger without hesitation. Wordlessly, he presses his finger to the slide and it pulls back into the wall. An automated voice echoes through the empty halls.

“Access denied. Personnel admittance deleted from Draklor Laboratory systems.”

“Damn,” Balthier mutters, scowling at the strip that reappears from the notch. “That's new. I suppose they needed to save room in their systems for new Judges.”

“That, or they didn’t want you storming back into this place with murderous intent and full access,” I suggest, shrugging. I’m only treated with a glare. Basch frowns, turning toward me.

“Do you think they would have deleted you from the security system?”

“Of course,” I scoff. “Vayne would have deleted my access the day I left.”

“Let’s at least try,” Vaan urges, taking his dagger from Balthier and pushing me toward the strip awaiting a drop of blood. I take the knife from the boy uneasily, swallowing hard.  _Why am I so nervous? So what if we can’t get in this way? There are other paths one can take._ Taking a deep breath, I slide the edge of the knife across the pad of my fingertip with a wince and watch a crimson pearl pool on my skin before rolling off onto the scanner. The strip slides back into the wall, silent tension overtaking the air. Nothing happens. Basch sighs.

“It was worth a—”

“Access granted. Welcome back  _Shera Castean Solidor._ ”

My heart stops in my chest and I suddenly feel sick.  _Why didn’t Vayne take me out of the system? ** **Larsa****  doesn’t even have full access to Draklor. _Dazed, I hand the dagger back to Vaan as the lift doors slide open. Slowly, we pile into the elevator and begin our ascent.

“Looks like someone didn’t want to prevent his beloved sister’s return,” Balthier comments, raising an eyebrow at me. “Any idea why?”

“Not in the slightest,” I mutter, turning to look at the dimmed city view through the heavily tinted glass wall of the lift.  _I don’t understand you, Vayne._ I shake my head, aimlessly twisting my hair around my fingers. Years ago, he tucked Larsa and me into bed every night and read us stories and fenced with me. Now, he seeks to end me in his endless quest for power. I huff.  _Oh, how the times have changed._

We hurry off the elevator and immediately Balthier’s face falls. Silently, he turns and leads us toward a towering triangular door in the wall. I follow closely as he turns the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an office in disarray. Iron tables with test tubes and spilled stacks of paper litter the room. Books and shelves alike are strewn across the floor. Fran crosses her arms and Balthier steps toward the desk at the corner of the room.

“He’s had visitors. Ones lacking manners, by the look of it,” the viera comments.

“Someone after the nethicite?” Vaan asks, frowning. Balthier scans over the papers on the desk in silence, an unreadable look hanging behind the green of his eyes.

“The Jagd Difhor was it?” he mutters, moving one paper over to read the next. I stand on the other side of the desk, gauging the pirate’s reaction to his father’s handiwork. “Six years, and ever since you got back,  _this_ … What madness found you there?” He goes silent again, setting the papers down with a shake of his head.

“Balthier, look,” I cut in, nodding toward a glowing keycard beneath the edge of a book to his right.

“Hm?” He glances up at me, broken out of thought.

“There’s a—”

“ _Up! Above us! Drop bulkheads five and eight! Be to it!”_

“They found us!” Vaan cries, inching away from the door.

“His earlier visitors, more like,” Fran replies, ear twitching. “We should lie low for now.”

“No, we’ll use their confusion,” Balthier announces, snatching up the keycard and heading toward the door. “We need to find Cid.  _Now_.” I exchange a glance with Fran and follow.  _Balthier’s in a bit of a rush... What’s happening ** **now?****_

We rush out of the room, sprinting down the halls and drawing our weapons just in case. Alternatively, Balthier and I head in and out of bulkhead control rooms, opening and closing the doors we need to continue. The whole laboratory is a winding maze, filled with confused soldiers and researchers. The occasional fight stops us in our rush, but we’re well on our way to confronting Doctor Cid. I shudder.  _Dern’s father… I’m certain he heard of us at least once…_

Huffing, I swipe the sweat off my face and charge toward the next cluster of soldiers as Balthier rushes toward the next bulkhead controls.  _I suppose it’s time to meet the man who cursed my life with his idiotic offspring._


	39. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa

            The halls are dark- the lights flickered out long ago. Nothing but a trail of dead Imperial soldiers lays behind us. My muscles ache and my head pounds as we finally come to a stop. Exhaustion is written clear over all our faces; the laboratory took much longer to traverse than we predicted it would. Even Balthier’s cool, calm demeanor has melted away just enough to reveal the nerves that cause his fingertips to tremble and his breathing to go ragged. The elevator doors close behind us and I heave a sigh of relief.

And then my heart leaps into my throat as I’m thrown to the floor. I start to protest when I see Basch leaping back from the slash of an unknown man’s curved swords. The knight clenches his teeth, unable to draw his sword, and presses his forearm to the other man’s, preventing a deadly downward swing from reaching its target. They struggle against each other for hardly a moment before the stranger raises his dark eyebrows.

“Ah. My apologies. You bear not the stench of Cid’s lackies.”

“And you are…” Basch grits. “Our earlier visitor.” I start to stand, a new voice freezing me in place and washing a wave of goosebumps over my skin.

_“Yes, a valuable man, one I’d sooner not lose. Yet he knows too much.”_

I look up at Balthier and he glances back, the same answer written clear in his eyes.  _Doctor Cid._ With a strangled growl, the mysterious swordsman sprints off and up the set of stairs to our target. Basch turns sharply to pull me to my feet. I huff, dusting my shirt off.

“You know, he’s strong for a bald guy in hot pink pants.”

No one replies, following Balthier’s rushed lead up the dark staircase. Sighing, I shake my head and hurry after them, tugging my spear free from its sheathe on my back. A dim red light casts a glow down the stairs, flashing brighter once we reach the top. Balthier skids to a stop, the man from before standing on the ground with his swords drawn as Doctor Cid, a pudgy, well-dressed man, stands over him on a platform.

“Cid!” the swordsman calls, glowering up at his opponent. “You know deifacted nethicite brought down the  _Leviathan_! How can you persist in this folly?”

“And you’ve come here to stop me?” Cid chuckles and I shudder, my heart panging.  _He sounds exactly like Balthier… Come to think of it, they have the same face as well…Creepy._ “I’d fain to see you try.”

“Consider your bones, old man,” Balthier calls, stepping forward and staring up at his father defiantly. “You’re outmatched.” Cid’s nose crinkles and rage flashes behind his familiar green eyes.

“Pirate scum of the skies,” he spits, his voice mocking. His next words are low, bitter. “What brings you here?”

“Treasure,” Balthier retorts. “What else would a pirate want? We’ll take the Dusk Shard.”

“You’ve come all this way for that trinket?” Cid laughs. “I thought you above this.” He pauses, his attention directed to something over his shoulder. “Hm? What’s that?” He sighs, turning back toward us. “The Princess of Dalmasca come to visit?” He straightens, a smug look overtaking his face. “She’s not entirely without merit. A test of sorts for our princess? A trail for Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca!” he cries, throwing his hands in the air.

“You’re not testing anyone,” I snap, stepping in front of Ashe, eyes narrowed on the fallen scientist.

“You’re a babbling fool!” Ashe calls, scowling at him. Cid chuckles.

“You lust for the Stone’s power, do you not?”

“We’re not to here to listen to your madman’s rambles,” I counter. “Balthier’s already told you—we’re here for the Stone, so hand it over.”

“Lend him not your ears, m’ladies,” the swordsman cuts in, glancing back over his shoulder. “He means to use you.” A shimmering golden mist rises around Cid and he jumps down from his high place, four spiked rotators spinning around him as he bursts into maniacal laughter. Suddenly pulling a straight face, he draws two long, golden firearms.

“Manufacted nethicite! Like Bergan,” Fran concludes, drawing her bow. Balthier’s face pulls tight into a mixture of anger and betrayal and painful nostalgia.

“How could you do this?” he demands. “How could you fall this far?” Doctor Cid makes no reply, cackling and firing two shots into the sky. I huff, rolling my eyes and raising my spear.

“Looks as though we’ll have to knock some sense into him, Balthier.”

“Let’s do it then,” the pirate replies, drawing his gun stiffly. “Always hiding behind your toys. Pity if anything were to happen to them.”

The rotating rooks around Cid shudder, washing a blue wave of light over the researcher’s body. Vaan’s daggers bounce right off the man with a short zap of electricity. Without hesitation, I block out all of Dern’s echoing happy tales involving his broken family and drive my spear into the side of one of the spiked rooks, pulling my weight on top of the spear and flipping backward off the end to avoid the sharp points threatening to inject poison into my adrenaline-flooded veins.

Fran blocks a shot from one of the rooks with the edge of her bow, her heeled feet skidding across the ground at the harsh impact. Basch rushes in to attack the same rook, slamming his sword down over its metal frame. The combination of a sharp blade and that man’s immense strength make for the perfect combination and the first rook to fall clatters to the ground. I jerk my weapon free and leap back, feeling Penelo’s protect spell burn across my skin. There’s a sharp tug on my hair and I stumble back into Vaan as Doctor Cid lets off a wild spray of bullets.

I wince as a shot grazes the tip of my ear, hot blood trickling down my hair and face. Pushing away from the boy, I move to attack the rook I hit before. Cid turns and fires at me, sending out an endless wave of ammunition. Three find a mark: my arm, my chest, my side. Hissing in pain, I clutch my elbow and stumble onto my free hand and knees. The deadly sharp spines of the rook draw nearer and nearer; I take a shuddering breath and try to force myself back. Balthier’s shoes stop to my right and his face is in mine before I have time to register why he’s here.

“The spear, Shae.”

Without hesitation, I push back onto my knees and force my—rather, his brother’s—weapon into his hands. Balthier immediately stabs at the rook, driving it back. Sparks flash from the machine’s damage; the pirate strikes it once more. A healing spell rushes through my body as the rook clatters onto the floor and Balthier tosses me my weapon.

Taking a deep breath and feeling somewhat renewed, I watch as Cid’s shield built by the rooks ripples and melts away. The remaining two rooks shudder before falling onto the ground with a pair of clangs. Vaan is the first to rush in, batting the guns out of his way and slashing at Cid’s thickly woven waistcoat. The scientist, annoyed, bats at him before firing a bullet into his stomach. Stunned, Vaan stumbles back.

Penelo rushes to tend to her friend as Basch moves to take the boy’s place, using the flat of his blade to wrestle his enemy’s guns up against his chest where he can’t hurt anyone but himself. With the aid of the nethicite, Cid’s strength proves to be a match for Basch’s, the two struggling to maintain the balance of their power. Never one to hesitate, I rush in behind Cid and strike the back of his head with the end of my spear. In response, Cid swings one of his guns back and knocks the butt of his weapon against my temple. My vision wavers and I stumble to the side, off balance. Doctor Cid throws his head back and laughs.

“I’m terribly sorry, Highness! I didn’t see you there!” he mocks. Balthier grits something between his teeth and fires once more, directly into his father’s chest. Basch steps back as Cid staggers, pulling my arm over his broad shoulders and pulling me toward the rest of the group. With a groan, Cid falls to his knees, guns falling at his sides. Before anyone can react the strange swordsman I nearly forgot about cries out, lunging into the air and swinging his blades down. Even in my wavering state of mind, I shout out a warning, stumbling forward with an arm stretched out helplessly. Suddenly, a bright blue light flashes and the man is bounced off of a brilliant magick shield and thrown to the ground near the stairs. Gasping for breath, Cid stands and straightens his sleeves.

“Venat,” he rasps, “you shouldn’t have.” The gray shadow of a spirit appears over Cid’s shoulder, bright orange eyes glowing in the dim light.

“This creature… So  _this_  is your Venat?” Balthier says in disbelief. Cid only smirks, Venat fading in a show of vermillion light.

“Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca!” he cries, turning to the princess. “Just how far will you go for power? Does your lust for nethicite consume you?” Ashe doesn’t reply, scowling. “Am I right? I am, aren’t I?” Cid continues smugly, his smile so  _unnervingly_ similar to Balthier’s. “A worthy daughter of the Dynast-King.” He cocks his head to the side, turning his gaze to me as I straighten on my own strength, my spear standing as my staff. “And you, my dear. Shera Castean Solidor, sister to Lord Vayne and the perfect example of a bastard child abandoned for power. Tell me: do you crave it the same way he does?”

“I’m nothing like  _Vayne_ ,” I snap, clutching my weapon defensively. Cid raises his eyebrows.

“Oh? And so why are you here? It’s not for  _treasure,_ is it _?_ ” He chuckles. “That wayward son of mine, Adamar, once tried reconnecting through a letter.” Cid’s green eyes glint with a mischief that I constantly saw in Dern’s gaze. The scientist lazily picks up his weapons, scanning them nonchalantly. “He explained his ventures and expressed his pleas for my return to the mundane and all that, of course. But he also revealed to me that you may soon have been my own daughter-in-law.” My heart catches in my throat and I glare daggers into his grin. “Well, if he’d lived any longer, that is. What’s that? Struck a chord, have I, Highness? It’s too bad… You know, I’ve heard rumors that it was your thirst for power that led to his murder.”

“You don’t know  _anything!”_  I scream.

My muscles spring into action before my mind and I rush toward him, spear raised and ready to strike through his heart as his lips quirk into a twisted smile. I’m suddenly jerked back, a tight grip pulling me back by my shirt and an arm blocking my path to my rival. I glower back at Balthier’s stern look of warning, my arms trembling from my crushing clench on my spear’s shaft.

“Of course, he was on the wrong path attempting to divert my attention from my purpose.” Cid rests his hands of his wide hips, shrugging. “So I suppose it’s good you turned on him. Though, I’m supposed to blame Vayne for that, am I not? Isn't that what you tell people these days?”

“This is utter nonsense,” Balthier snaps, cutting off his father’s rambling. “Hand over the Shard, Doctor Cid.”

“Oh?” Cid turns his gaze first to Balthier, and then to me, and then to Balthier. Then he bursts out laughing, resting one hand on his rounded belly. “Oh! I see what it is now, Venat! Our beloved princess has moved from bedding one Bunansa to ravishing the next! It’s all too good!” He swipes at a tear forming at the corner of his eye dramatically, his laughter slowing. “This visit truly has proved to be entertaining, pirate scum.” I clench my jaw, swallowing the lump in my throat hard. Tears prick at my eyes, flooding my vision; they’re grown too fat to blink away. “You would do well to go to Giruvegan. Who knows? You may receive a new stone for your trouble.”

A two-man ship lands before us, floating and awaiting its newest passenger. Cid starts toward the ship, Ashe striding past me and shouting over the roar of the machine’s engine, right beside my ear. As I cringe away, I realize Balthier’s standing with his arm raised just before me, so close I can feel his warmth. I shake my head, wincing at Ashe’s volume.

“Your words mean nothing to me!”

The ship shudders, its engines slowing their work. Cid ignores the princess, tracing one gloved hand down the detailed work carved into the vehicle. Under his breath, he murmurs to an unseen being.

“The reins of History back in the hands of Man…” Balthier frowns, a curious look taking over his face as he tries to decipher his father’s words. Cid grins a menacing grin and turns toward us. “I too make for Giruvegan. Give chase, if you dare it!” With that, the crazed researcher hoists himself up into the ship and takes off not three seconds later. A pained look briefly crosses Balthier’s face and he drops his arm.

“I  _hate_ it when he does that.”

“Mayhaps you think me remiss!” the swordsman from earlier cries, dragging himself to his feet unsteadily. I turn to look at him through cloudy vision, Balthier frowning and leaning a bit closer.

“You alright, Princess?”

Ashe turns to him momentarily, faltering when she realizes he’s not addressing her through that oddly quieter voice. I nod, pressing my lips together and forcing my gaze to stay on the bald swordsman in bright pink pants and an open-fronted linen shirt. Something rough brushes across my cheekbone and I cringe away from the touch only to realize it was the pressed end of Balthier’s sleeve. The pirate turns back to the man, nonchalant. Sniffing, I take a deep breath and blink at the tears remaining in my eyes.

“Best not ruin my cuffs,” he adds in a low voice, though it’s tight and impatient. The swordsman sheathes his curved blades on his back and paces toward us.

“The Lady Shera of Archadia? I presume you no longer side with your brother.” He steps up to Ashe, sparing me an amicable look through deep brown eyes. “And the Lady Ashe of Dalmasca. The sky pirate Reddas, as your employ.”

“Sky pirate, hm?” Balthier repeats half-heartedly. “You’ve a ship, then?”

“Yes,” Reddas replies firmly in his enormously deep voice. “A ship to carry us on to a haven where you may regroup and choose your direction, Highness.”

“Take us there,” Ashe says immediately, glancing at Basch. The knight nods back respectively, his blue eyes as gentle as ever. “We must reason out our next course of action rather than run after Doctor Cid blindly.”

“This way!” Reddas calls, waving an arm over his head and leading the way back down the stairs.

Gradually the others trickle out of the airy space in the laboratory. I remain at Balthier’s side—unintentionally—to stare at the place where that detestable man once stood. My knuckles are white and my fingers ache from gripping my spear so tightly for so long, but I can’t let go. I need something, anything, to cling to and keep me steady right now. Somehow, I’ve offended Balthier, though I’m not sure— _Dern._ I shiver, suddenly feeling sick at the reminder of the hell that brought me to utter ruin a mere five months ago—four before this bizarre venture.  _It… was Vayne._ I look up at Balthier’s pensive, bitter glare on his father’s last place of stature through my eyelashes.  _It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill Adamar. It was…_

“What did he mean by…?” Balthier asks unnaturally quietly, his voice the in the rawest state I’ve ever heard it in. “What happened to Dern?”

“It was Vayne,” I choke out, those cursed tears biting at my eyes again. Balthier’s eyes fall to the ground before turning to me, full of doubt. I shake my head, my hands wringing around my lance as I tremble. My gaze collapses to the ground. “He… He killed him. I didn’t… do anything.” I cough with a wince, suffocating on the constriction of my throat. “I didn’t…” I shake my head violently, batting away thoughts and threats and the smothering urge to drive my weapon through his face and end it all. For the both of us. “I…”  _Who am I kidding?_

A strangled sob breaks from my throat and I fall to my knees, weak and lifeless. My bones knock the ground and a sharp pain that I hardly feel shoots through my body. A lost cause of absent control, I burst into tears, a sobbing, choking, shuddering mess on the ground, my hands above my head and gripping the upright pole of my spear. My chest tightens and I feel as though I might just die here—and so be it. It’s what I deserve. “I k-killed him.”

An involuntary sharp intake of breath stops my words for a second, two more tears squeezing past onto my cheeks. “It was… It was me, Balthier.” My arms go slack and fall onto the rough concrete, my weapon clattering to the ground with a harsh rattle. Grinding my palms into my eyes, I shudder under the weight of another crippling wave of sorrow and shake my head. “I was so sc-scared that Vayne was going to give him a death he didn’t deserve, I… I’ve  _lost_  my  _mind_!” I practically scream, bursting into hysterical laughter. Balthier watches the show with a blank expression, witnessing my entire façade’s crumbling end. The stone walls of the mask I’ve cemented have fallen around me in an unceremonious, haphazard circle.

“I should have just stayed with Jonan in Rabanastre,” I force out, falling onto my back and knocking my head hard against the pavement—on purpose. The dizzying effect doesn’t last nearly long enough, so I do it again and again until I can hardly breathe and laughing is the only thing that feels right anymore. “I suppose the forced sex wasn’t too bad when I was drunk. At least then I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel anymore.”

I hit my head again.

“I agree,” Balthier grumbles, turning on his heels and starting to follow the others. “It would have made everything much easier,  _Highness._ ”

And again.

_~3 months before~_

_There it is again. That blank stare. Dern’s face is washed over, lost in painful contemplation. He’s been this way since I brought him back from Vayne’s hold and nursed him back to health. Since I became paranoid of the Empire coming and stealing him away. Since Vayne carved the crest of House Solidor into my flesh. I sigh, pulling the blankets up higher and watching him. Broken from thought by the creaking of the bed, Dern glances toward me, settled in the chair at his desk. His dark eyes are blank, empty._

_“How are you feeling?” I ask when he turns away, watching the window again._

_“The same as always,” he replies dryly, watching me sit up with a wince. “I see you’ve yet to take the potions I gave to you.”_

_“I used them on you,” I admit, rubbing my sore side. “Still thinking about what happened?”_

_“It’s all I see when I close my eyes,” he mutters, turning back toward the window. All the nights of waking in a cold sweat, of taking turns in search for signs of nightmares… it’s taking its toll on us. Heavy, dark bags mark the skin beneath his eyes. “But that’s not all.”_

_“Your brother?”_

_He nods, though his eyes stay on the desert sands outside. I lean back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling._

_“Either he never got it or he’s a real prick,” I huff. He sighs, shaking his head._

_“I knew better than to try,” he murmurs. “Ffamran… he’s a stubborn one. Doesn’t cling to the past. Once a deal’s been made, it’s made.” Green eyes turn to me, irritated and hurt. “Though, I thought him better than to leave his brother at the mercy of the Empire.”_

_“Did you mention why you were there?”_

_“Of course not,” he scoffs, irate. “Shae, do you think I’d give your cover away for all the riches in the world?”_

_“That wasn’t what I meant.”_

_“Like hell it wasn’t.”_

_“Dern—”_

_“Don’t.” Dern stands, crossing his scarred arms and pacing the length of the room restlessly. “I apologize. I’m not quite feeling like myself.”_

_“You haven’t been yourself for quite a while, it seems.” I stare down at my lap, my breathing ragged around the pain in my chest. “Perhaps this is just who you've become.”_

_“And you’re a mere coward waiting for the Empire to whisk me away. That’s it, isn’t it? Everything ** **must**** be face-valued.” Dern shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, this isn’t us. Time is all we need.”_

_“Time,” I repeat under my breath, looking out the window wistfully. To feel the sun on my skin again, to see the golden light tanning Dern’s face, bleaching his hair… But all I feel outside is fear, a paranoia so strong I can’t breathe and every shadow has me startled. Terrified of what Vayne has in store. The mattress sinks and Dern sits in front of me, cross-legged._

_“How are ** **you****?”_

_“I suppose I’m the same.” I shrug, unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t stop worrying about it, Dern. Vayne… He has sources well beyond our reach. If he finds us…”_

_“Don’t think about it,” he urges, reaching forward to grasp my hands. “He can’t catch us, Shae. We’ll keep running because that’s what we do. I promise I won’t let him get his hands on you, ever.”_

_“You think I’m scared for myself?” I glower up at him; he frowns. “Dern, I don’t give a damn about what happens to me. If he got ahold of ** **you****  again…” I shake my head, voice catching on the lump in my throat. “I can’t let that happen. He’d give you the slowest, most horrific end. I’d just… fall to pieces.”_

_“And what are you doing right now?”_

_“Trying.”_

_“I don’t know if you understand what would happen if he were to take you.” Dern reaches up a hand to brush my hair from my face, lifting my chin so I look him in the eye. “Or perhaps you do. Either way, I cannot simply let you throw your life away for my sake.”_

_“I won’t,” I promise, squeezing the hand that still holds mine. He takes a deep breath, staring long and hard at my face. ** **Please don’t make this any harder.**** “As long as you won’t throw yours away for mine.” He shakes his head, leaning in to brush his lips over mine._

_“I’m afraid I cannot make any promises.”_

_“Then neither can I.” He gives a weak, breathy laugh._

_“What a piece of work we are.”_

_He presses a firm kiss to my lips before pulling away and collapsing onto the bed. Pale green eyes stare up at the ceiling, pensive. Sighing, I fall beside him, curling up to his side. The rough material of his tan shirt scratches my cheek, but I pay it no mind, shutting my eyes tightly. I feel fingers entangle themselves in my hair, another hand tracing the lines of my face. It’s all too easy to drift into the enticing waves of sleep._

_It’s all blood, screams, pleas, explosions, tears. It’s all agony. It’s all suffocation. Night has fallen by the time I jerk awake, breathless, sweaty, and shaking. Unsteadily, I peel myself from the bed, away from Dern’s side, and look out his window. I see them, the shadows of Imperials waiting in the dark. Watching. Waiting. Nauseous, I stumble backward into Dern’s chair, taking a shaky breath. ** **They won’t leave until I do something.****_

_I grit my teeth, swallowing hard as tears well up in my eyes. Dern sleeps peacefully in the bed, lips parted and hair mussed beyond repair. It’s only a matter of time before a nightmare about Vayne stealing me away wakes him. ** **It’s all me… It’s why he’s suffering.**** Before all this, I’d never heard Dern scream. I’d never seen him cry. After… it’s all I see anymore._

_It’s all he’s become because I was careless. There’s a reason he was a treasure out of reach before he broke down that barrier… I shattered him with a single breath. And now… it’s my time to fix him. But he’s unfixable. He lies to himself, to me, but I know he’s all too fragile for this ruthless world. He may be Archadian, may have been a Judge, may be all brains and heart, but he’s far too innocent. Far too naïve. A positive force drowned out in the voice of the negatives. I shudder. ** **There’s only one way to fix this.****_

_I won’t let the Imperials get their hands on him. Never again. Vayne will never get to touch that bright smile. No… It’s mine to give and take away. I won’t let him suffer any longer. Even if it means… I take a deep breath and turn away from the sleeping man I once knew better than anything else in this world._

_I throw his desk drawer open, pulling his revolver free and reloading it with the ammunition scattered about the bin. Trembling, I stagger to my feet. My heart leaps into my throat when Dern blindly reaches for me in his sleep, frowning when he finds me missing. And then he’s awake, staring down the barrel of the gun that unsteadily wavers in his face._

_“Shae…?” He stares dead ahead at me, raising a shaking hand. “Shae, what are you doing?”_

_“I can’t…” I choke out, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. My hands tremble, the gun rocking with every rattle. “They can’t take you from me.”_

_“They won’t,” he reassures me, sitting up slowly. “Shae, it’s alright. You’re anxious, I understand. Put the gun down and we can talk. We can fly somewhere else if you like.” I shake my head as if it’ll throw his words far away from my ears._

_“They can’t take you,” I repeat, blinking away the tears to stare at him coldly, fending off all feeling._

_“And they won’t,” he replies earnestly, eyes locked firmly on mine. My lips curl up into a sickening smile driven purely by insanity, a blind panic, terror._

_“No, they won’t.”_

_The gun fires twice; it clatters to the floor once. I fall to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably as Dern’s lifeless body slumps on the bed, blood and brains splattered on the wall behind him. I turn to the window, screaming at the shadows._

_“He’s gone! You can’t have him!” I beat a fist against the glass, shrieking. “There’s nothing ** **left!**** ”_

_Satisfied, they dissipate. I fall back to the floor, trying to catch my breath around my sobs. I never knew grief could be so ** **painful.****  My chest is tight, stinging, begging the gods for a rewind. Rage bubbles up in my chest and I scream again, overflowing with agony and anger. Beating my fist to the hard floor, I smack the pistol away so hard it clatters into the wall across the room. Drowning in tears, I drag myself up onto the bed, clinging to Dern’s limp frame._

_“I’m s-sorry… It h-had to be done, D-Dern…” I take a deep, shuddering breath and brush the hair off his bloody face and press a kiss to his forehead, right beside one of the bullet holes. “He can’t hurt you now. You’re safe!” Fresh tears well up in my eyes as I close his empty eyes. “You’re safe, Adamar. It’s like you always wanted.” I laugh weakly, looking over to the pistol. “We’ll be together soon enough.”_

_Hours later, still under the cover of night, I pull Dern outside the Castean and into the desert sand. It takes over two hours for me to dig a deep hole enough with my bare hands, my skin raw and bleeding. The sun’s coming up over the horizon by the time I press another chaste kiss to Dern’s forehead and lower him into the grave. Kicking the sand over his body until it the ground's like new, I retrieve a gnarled branch from a nearby dead tree and drive it into the sand. With my knife, I carve "Adamar 'Dern' sien Bunansa" into the wood and sit back on my heels._

_Shakily, I reach for the pistol and kneel atop the rough grave. I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes and pulling back on the hammer with my thumb. Trembling, I press a hand to the sand right over Dern’s body. The sound of the wildlife stirring awake, the feeling of the sunlight on my skin, the taste of the desert air… It’s all beautifully deceitful. The finger on the trigger of Dern’s gun twitches. I take another breath, willing it to be my final._

_The pistol flies across the sand just as it fires, struck from my hand. Stunned, I stare at the glint of its metallic body as the person behind me clicks their tongue in disappointment._

_“You thought you could get out this that easily?” The man leans closer to my ear, hands pressed to my shoulders. “You’ve made yet another foolish, fear-driven mistake, Shae. You have quite the affinity for those, now don’t you?” Jonan shakes his head, dragging me to my feet. I stare up at him, void of all emotion. He stares back, not at all as unfazed as his voice sounds. He keeps looking back to the grave, back to the bloodstains on my clothes, back to the crazed look in my eyes. “Gods, Shae, what…?”_

_“Vayne won’t get him now,” I reply, voice barely over a whisper. Jonan stares back at me, confused, stunned, horrified. “He… He can’t take him away.”_

_“You twisted…” He huffs, tugging at his hair, obviously distressed at the weight of the situation. “ ** **Fates****. Let’s get you inside.”_

_I don’t reply, letting him guide me with a gentle touch to my back. He brings me to my room, nudging me into bed. He sits on my chair the wrong way, keeping the paneled back between his legs as he watches me stare at the ceiling. With a sigh, the boy looks out the window._

_“Your brother did a number on your sanity.” I don’t reply, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I knew you were out of your mind, but this… Gods, Shae—”_

_“He won’t suffer.”_

_“He’s ** **gone,**** Shae!” he shouts suddenly, standing. The chair cracks as it clatters to the floor. “You fucking  ** **murdered**** your only friend in cold blood. I don’t care about your intentions. He could’ve healed, could’ve gotten better, but you  ** **ended**** him because you were  ** **afraid****.” He shakes his head, fists clenched at his sides. “I didn’t even know him, but I knew he was a good man. He turned you around for the better and you threw him away.” Shuddering, he continues in a lower voice. “You’re a goddamn coward. He was a liar, a crook, a thief, but he deserved far better than a spoiled princess who thinks of nothing but her own wishes. All he wanted was  ** **you****  and  ** **you****  force-fed him bullets.”_

_“I get it!” I snap, scowling at him. Rolling over so I face the wall, I hug my arms to myself, my voice a mere whimper. “He’s gone. It’s my fault. I’m a selfish **bitch**. What more do you want from me, Jonan? The world’s a lot crueler when you look away from your money and your sob-story past.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just go.”_

_Instead of leaving, Jonan mutters something about how he can’t leave me like this, sets up the splintering chair, and plops back down, face buried in his intertwined fingers._

_By late evening, I’m awake again. The halls are eerily silent and the sun doesn’t shine nearly as bright as usual. I step outside, standing beside Dern’s grave. ** **Vayne… He drove me to this. Struck fear into our hearts and drove me to insanity and hallucination…**** My fists clench at my side.  ** **He’s going to pay.**** I turn back to reenter my ship only to see her pulled to pieces, her parts scattered across the sand, her engines  ** **gone**** and her body scraped beyond repair. I shake my head, staring at the obvious spot in the distance where Jonan’s ship once rested. I don’t have the energy to chase him down, nor do I honestly care any longer. After all, what’s my baby without the laughter of her father to lighten her up? A dark cave of scrap metal and tears. Worth nothing at all._

_I scoff, staring up at her looming figure with dry eyes. ** **At least we have that much in common.****_


	40. A Pirate's Haven is His Heart

The cool sea breeze pulls at my hair, tugging it back from my face and whipping it around behind me. The salt holds a comforting smell and the rhythmic wash of the water beating upon sand is more than peaceful, even with the bustle of the pirate haven of Balfonheim echoing behind me. The home of Reddas is enough shelter for now, a well-sailed ship docked just off the shore. Even if he is more of a sky-farer, as I am, his mode of transport by ocean is extraordinarily gorgeous.

"They chose to supply the Resistance," Ashe says sharply, staring out at the water beside me. "And yet, they raise not a sword in aid. What city could do this?" Reddas cocks his head to the side, raising one dark eyebrow and scratching at his wild white beard.

"A city of men without countries. Pirate of the sea and of the sky." He steps toward the front of the ship as Ashe steps away from it, scowling at him. "Few are they who would fain lay down their lives for a friend, let alone a king." He leans back against sturdy wood, crossing his arms.

"The Marquis—he is set on war?" Ashe asks. Reddas sighs.

"The time approaches when he must make his position vis-à-vis the Empire clear. When he helped you off the  _Leviathan_ , he spited the Judges full score. He cannot sit in idleness and expect to avoid a reckoning." Reddas straightens, glancing off toward the bright blue waves that reflect the oranges and pinks of the seaside sunset. "The Marquis shares my distaste for war, yet if it comes to it, he will show no quarter."

"It's just what Vayne wants," Basch replies, stepping away from the cabin door and striding past Fran and Balthier to stand between Ashe and Vaan. "He lures the Rozzarians and the Resistance to the field, then crushes both with nethicite!"

"I think not," Balthier replies dryly, arms crossed as he leans back against a green table. "Cid has the Stone. We grab it, and smash it to pieces with the Sword of Kings. Vayne will be left holding nary a thing." He stands straight, lifting his chin. "Time is short. We follow Cid. He's heading toward Giruvegan."

"Giruvegan..." Ashe breathes, staring absently at the pirate.

"It is told of in a song of my people," Fran says, crimson eyes scanning over the party. "'On the farthest shores of the river of time, shrouded deep in the roiling Mist, the holy land sleeps: Giruvegan. Who knows the paths? The way to its doors?'" she quotes.

"Then you seek the Jagd Difohr," Reddas cuts in. "Deep within the jungle of Golmore, there is a corner of the Feywood where a Mist-storm surges and seethes."

"Then that's it!" Vaan exclaims. "Let's go!"

"Right," Penelo nods, gasping when Vaan grabs her hand and drags him after him as he runs off. Sighing, Basch follows with Fran on his heels. Balthier raises an eyebrow at the pirate in pink across from us.

"Not coming, Reddas? Forget your precious nethicite already?"

"Cid's words rang hollow to me," Reddas replies calmly. I raise an eyebrow at the man, waiting lazily for the conversation to end so I have an excuse to break off and do as I please for the evening, without having to stare at everyone in silence as they try to pry reassuring words from my lips. I don't have any to give. "I will follow another course."

"Ah, another lead then, is it? You're well informed."

"I could well say the same to you, pirate."

Balthier's eyes narrow on the bearded man, his suspicion clear on his face. I huff, cut off by Vaan bursting through the doors.

"Hurry it up, or Basch will eat everything in the tavern!"

"Ah, Vaan!" Reddas greets. "I've had some of my men check on this Feywood. Best ask what they've found."

"Okay! Thanks for the help, Reddas." The boy slams the doors shut and he's off again.

"Fly first, ask questions later," Reddas chuckles, setting his hands on his hips. "Your apprentice is more pirate than you."

"I don't have an apprentice," Balthier fires back, moodily leaving the deck. Reddas only laughs again, grabbing my arm and pulling gently.

"Lady Shera, I would ask that you leave me and Princess Ashe to speak alone. Join your companions for some rest in the tavern."

"Aye, aye, Captain," I mutter, offering Reddas a weak smile and pushing off the edge of the ship.

Walking through the doors everyone left through, I find my way out of the ship and down the narrow docks. In the evening glow of the beach, I see Fran standing on the path, paused as men bustle past her with heavy burlap sacks heaved over their shoulders and wooden crates piled up high in their arms. I duck my head down and move to past her with long strides, but her clawed fingers catch my arm with a strong grip.

"Come," is all she says before releasing me and striding toward the shore. Sighing, I follow, arms crossed. We stop where the water hardly graces the higher sands.

"What is it?" I finally ask, breaking the silence.

"What is this game you play?" she inquires, though her voice is more demanding than friendly.

"Game?" I frown, glimpsing up at her irritated gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Toying over his heart."

"Toying? I've not been toying with anything, Fran."

"I know the story of his brother, to be sure," she says, staring out at the crashing waves. "But there is something else... Who is this 'Jonan' to you?"

"Jonan?" I sigh, mulling over the question for a long, long time. "I'm... not sure. Certainly no friend."

"Closer or farther?"

"...Closer."

"What is he?"

"A hume, what else?"

"Do not play your game with  _me_ ," she snaps, making me cringe.  _She **does** emote, then. _"You had best decide quickly or I will pry open that snare of yours and set Balthier free before he bleeds out from this hopeless endeavor."

With that, she turns on her heels and strides toward the tavern where we've been granted rooms to stay the night. I frown and turn back to the sea.  _What was **that**? _ It feels as though I've swallowed a boulder.  _It's not the story of his brother, then..._ I shiver, hugging my arms closer.  _It's... Jonan? But that makes no sense. Jonan's no one, close to nothing. But at the same time..._ He's always been something far more than a friend as well, I suppose. Nothing like a friend, but certainly never a lover. How would I describe that?

I huff and shake my head, turning and walking toward the tavern. This all far too much to comprehend all at once. Is it jealousy? Uncertainty? Disappointment? If that man keeps avoiding me like the plague, I may never know. I shrug and push the tavern doors open.

Men laugh heartily with their tankards in hand and women serve drinks, batting their long eyelashes and swishing their skirted hips. In the corner, a rather large table seats the rest of our group. Feeling an ashamed blush crawl up my face, I awkwardly sit next to Fran, leaving one last empty seat beside Balthier. Vaan sloppily eats a cockatrice leg, wiping grease off his face with the back of his arm and waving the gnarled bone about as he talks.

"Reddas gave us all this for free, you know! A whole town of pirates!" He takes another bite, stores it in his cheek, and continues. "That's pretty cool."

"It is interesting," Penelo agrees in a much more civil volume. "Maybe we could come back some day, Vaan."

"We will," Vaan nods, dropping his finished drumstick onto his pewter plate. "It'll be nice to get some rest in a decent place for once," he adds, clasping his hands behind his head and grinning. "Hey, Fran. How much do you wanna bet that Shae's gonna take a  _long_  bath the second we set her loose?"

"What's wrong with that?" I mutter back, leaning my chin on the palm of my hand— I'm not in the mood for banter. I want a nice long soak, to be sure, and then I want to curl up underneath a pile of blankets and hide until daylight. The entire flight to this pirate's haven, I sat by myself as far away from the others as possible, ignoring their attempts at conversation and contemplating nothing but my time with Dern.

"You tired?" Vaan asks, frowning. "You're really grumpy."

"Don't let Cid's words get to you," Penelo says gently, offering a small smile. "We know you wouldn't—"

"And if she did?" Balthier interrupts. The pair of orphans sit in stunned silence for a moment before Penelo speaks again.

"Then it was as hard to do as it is to carry the burden." She turns back to me, smiling softly. "Isn't that right, Shae? I don't care who you are—I like you." She elbows Vaan. "Maybe someday I'll even be your partner and leave this sorry guy behind."

"Hey!"

I manage to muster up a gentle laugh for that one. Basch sighs, eyes lifting as Ashe enters the tavern. She spots us immediately, sitting in the booth seat between me and Balthier. The knight across the table eyes her a moment longer before clearing his throat and leaning back in his seat. Balthier's the first to break the silence.

"Well, the mood's far to heavy this evening. What say we lift it with some good old-fashioned madhu?"

"That sounds spectacular," I grumble, refusing to look at him when I speak.

"I shall join you for that," Basch replies, Vaan throwing his hand in the air.

"Me too! Me and Pen are old enough."

"How old do you have to be these days?" Basch asks, turning to the two with a raised eyebrow.

"Sixteen," Vaan shrugs.

And so Balthier orders six bottles of madhu for our table, leaving Ashe to be the only person skipping out. I've hardly drank a third of mine before Vaan's is all gone. The boy laughs, teasing Penelo relentlessly about her lady-like manners. And then somewhere across the room a band strikes up and the pirates cheer and start dancing around the tavern with any random partner. Vaan grins and turns to Penelo, mock bowing.

"May I have this dance, Miss?"

"No," Penelo retorts, nose crinkled in disgust.

"Fine," Vaan huffs, slouching in his seat and crossing his arms. And then his eyes meet mine and a grin spreads across his face.

"No," I say immediately.

"You've been moping too much," he states firmly, scooting past Penelo and Fran and coming to stand beside my chair. "So..." he takes a knee in some sort of extravagant gesture meant to resemble a bow and extends a hand. Glittering blue-gray eyes peek up past blonde eyelashes and his smile refuses to break. "Wanna dance?"

"Not really," I sigh, setting my bottle down. His smile begins to fade and I fight my own. "However, I could never refuse such charm in such a... an  _odd_ boy."

"Odd?!"

"She accepted your invitation—just take it as it is," Balthier replies, though there's a bit of a bite to his tone.

"Yeah, I will," Vaan snaps back playfully. "And we're gonna have  _fun._  Right, Shae?"

"Most definitely," I nod, standing. Growing bold, I reach out a hand and ruffle Balthier's short hair before taking Vaan's hand and following him toward the open space of the tavern.

It's fun, clinging onto each other and laughing and sweating and galloping about the room. We're the youngest pair in the gathering, the faces of forgetful youth as the past and present fade away and all that matters is clumsy footwork and Vaan's overconfident grip. My hair blows about with every movement and I know the life's returned to my eyes for the first time in a long time. Even Ashe smiles as we pass by, laughing when we stumble because Vaan stomped on my toes when I bumped into another woman.

Finally, the music ends and I'm clinging to Vaan like he's a lifeline because he decided he  _was_ going to throw me backward after all, his hand surprisingly sturdy at the base of my back. He grins once more before pulling me up straight. His face is flushed red from all that running about and we're both out of breath.  _Damsel in distress..._ He  _did_ save me from my sour mood. Shaking my head, I press my lips to the boy's cheek and give him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks," is all I say.

"No problem," is how he replies.

We head back to the table, winded but buzzing with energy. Penelo laughs, fixing Vaan's wild hair. I scoop up my bottle of madhu without sitting and chug most of the alcohol. Even Fran, who was evidently ticked off at me, seems amused at my ruffled state. Offering Basch a smile, I look at my group of companions. At this rate, I suppose they're friends.  _Friends._ I huff.  _Vayne'll have fun with that one, huh? If he has any spare time, that is._

"I'm gonna go hit the tub," I say finally, taking my bottle with me as I turn on my heels. "First three doors, right?"

"Yes," Ashe nods.

I push open the first of our rooms, looking over the bedroom tiredly. My muscles are screaming for rest and my eyelids are heavy.  _Hope I don't fall asleep in the bath._ I take another sip from the glass bottle in my hand and trace my fingers over the blankets.  _What a pleasant surprise—somewhat clean linens._ Huffing a sarcastic laugh to myself, I start toward the bathroom door.

"What's so funny?" I nearly jump out of my skin upon seeing Balthier standing in the doorway, arms crossed and shoulder pressed to the wooden doorframe. "Did Reddas leave us a love letter on the bed?"

"I almost wish he had," I reply, my nerves spiking as the pirate scoffs and steps into the room, drawing nearer. "What're you doing here?"

"Here?" He throws his arms out to the side dramatically. "I chose this room before you got here; Fran decided to room with Penelo and Vaan didn't say anything, so I was waiting for a roommate."

"Gods above," I grumble, taking another swig.

"Careful, now," Balthier retorts. "Don't want to wind up like your dear Jonan."

"My dear Jonan," I repeat, raising an eyebrow. " _My dear Jonan_  is a mere  _child_ I want nothing more than to pay back my debts to. And perhaps to lead him off the horrid path he's on in the process, I suppose."

"Horrid path, hm? So unlike you to care for others' wellbeings."

"Of course, I forgot you can read me like a book," I fire back, rolling my eyes. Balthier raises an eyebrow, stopping at the bed and running his hand across its surface. He pauses, glancing up at me from the corner of his eye.

"Adamar... That was the last piece of your puzzle, wasn't it?"

"..." My eyes fall to the floor.  _There's more to me than..._ "I suppose so. Your little game's over, then."

"It seems it is."

Heaving a sigh, I start toward the bathroom once more, seriously considering drowning myself in hot bath water to avoid the humiliation. And then he does that stupid, absolutely ridiculous ploy where he takes hold of my elbow and forces me to face him, his stupid, absolutely ridiculous green eyes staring hard into mine. My heart skips a beat and I find that I can't breathe as a hand trails across my bare shoulder and hangs on there, heating my cooled skin.

"And that means I won, does it not?"

"What do you want from me?" I ask, my voice weaker than I intended. "I've no money for you, and I'm not about to offer a deal like Jonan's anytime soon."

"No deals necessary," he replies, cocking his head to the side. "At least, there shouldn't be. I like to think I have a fair idea of what  _your_ thoughts are."

"Obviously not," I scoff, teasing because I can't help it. I'm a mere orphaned child trapped in a twenty-year-old princess's body. "You never saw half the story coming."

"It's not the story I'm after."

"Is that so?" That boldness creeps back up on me (I blame it on the alcohol) and I can't help but clutch the back of his neck and tug his head down low enough that I can speak closer to his ear. "Then prove it to me."

Balthier pries the madhu from my hand and finishes it off in one long drink.

"As you command, Princess."

And he does.


	41. Receding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the late update. I've been super these past two weeks with performance stuff, but I kicked ass and I'm returning to my normal schedule. Enjoy :)

Sunlight reflecting from the rippling ocean and the rolling sands is what brings me to my senses. It's a feeling that's all too familiar, my back curled up against someone else's, the heat of skin providing more warmth than the blankets loosely tangled around my body. At first, I don't want to move; I'm too cozy with my cheek rested against the smooth inside of my arm. And then I think better of staying and peel off the covers and pull on my clothes. With a final glance toward the bed and a glimpse out the window, I leave the room with only the whisper of my boots against the wooden floors to accompany me.

The tavern is mostly empty, though Basch sits on a stool at the counter, conversing with the bar tender in his usual gentle manner. I scoff to myself, shaking my head and strolling out the door. It wouldn't surprise me if the knight had a soft spot for snuggling rabbits and kittens.

Pirates and their crews rush down the streets with their usual packages and the groan of a ship rumbles through the cobblestone pavement as it leaves the port. A woman dressed in gaudy, colorful clothes waves from the boat, blowing kisses to the shouting crowd on the shore. I fight a smile; stupid sea pirates, always causing a ruckus when it's entirely unnecessary.

The breeze pulls the hair from my face and tugs at my clothes, though it's gentle. More like a child's innocent begging pulls than a temper tantrum. A well-mannered child, then. I practically snort.  _What's **that?**_ I never was one of  _those._ I keep an easy pace as I meander through the sea-side pirate haven, twisting at the armor clinking on my left arm absently. The worn but colorful buildings line a number of streets, each full of their own sorts of people. Shop keepers call out for patrons, children run about screaming and laughing, and men and women exchange witty banter through open windows and doorways. I fight a smile, broken from thought when I stumble into a galloping child.

"Sorry, Miss!" the girl calls nervously, scrambling to her feet. Her pigtails gleam red in the sunlight, bright green eyes and freckles catching just enough that innocence and beauty collide on a single small plain of pale skin. I shake my head.

"You're alright."

Flashing me a beaming grin, the girl continues her escape from the stout woman chasing her. I walk all the way down to the end of the pier on the east side of the town, letting the ocean breeze fight to pull me into the watery depths just feet away. And then I turn back and cut through town to head to the broader beach of the northern side, where Reddas's ship is anchored. My boots are horribly heavy in the pale golden grains of sand; I eventually give up and tug them and my socks off, carrying the pairs beneath my right arm and walking toward two people I easily recognize.

"Hey, Shae!" Vaan calls, waving an arm over his head from where he sits, pausing his climb up a rough-trunked palm tree. "You're finally up."

"I am," I nod, dropping my shoes in the sand and turning back to the waves. Penelo looks up from her seat on the ground and smiles.

"Did you sleep well? Those beds weren't the best, but they're  _much_ better than the ground." I take a deep breath, feeling my face beginning to go red.

"Honestly, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Slept like a rock until about... an hour ago?"  _Not **technically** a lie. _"Though, my back  _is_  a bit sore."

"Mine too," she nods, tracing a finger of the feathers tied into the bottom of a pigtail. "Did you eat yet?"

"I don't usually eat in the morning," I reply simply, turning back to look up at Vaan. "What  _are_ you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the boy retorts, grinning as he pulls himself up onto a branch. "Heads up!" He gives the branch a firm shake and several coconuts drop down onto the sand. Satisfied, he jumps down with a triumphant cry and scoops up several of the fruits. "Still not hungry?"

"Those don't look ripe," I point out, eyebrow arched.

"Yeah, well," he sighs, handing one to Penelo. "We've gotta take what we get, right?"

"Or we could eat food from the tavern," Pen points out, a smug smile creeping across her face. "I doubt Reddas will mind as long as we're with Ashe."  Vaan huffs, kicking sand at her bright yellow bodysuit and chipping away at his coconut's shell with his dagger.

"Whatever. I'll enjoy the fruit of my labor."

"A well-spoken dictum for a boy like you," I tease, elbowing him. He scowls at me, splitting the coconut open and drinking from the fruit's greenish insides. I crinkle my nose before looking out toward the ocean. "How much have you explored?"

"Just the perimeters," Penelo shakes her head. "I saw you walking earlier, so you've at least seen the town. But at the south end, there's a cartographer and chocobos and a path leading off onto some plains." She sighs, leaning back against the tree trunk. A content smile traces her pink lips and she closes her blue eyes. "I love it here. Even with all the bustle, it's  _peace_ for once."

"I dunno," Vaan grumbles around a mouthful of coconut milk. He swallows hard before continuing. "I mean, I like a little chaos."

"Trust me, we know," I laugh, ruffling his hair.

"Hey, stop that!" he protests, battling my hand away with a wince. "My arms are sore from all that dancing last night."

"Your arms?" Penelo scoffs.

"Yeah, she's heavy," Vaan snickers. I give the back of his head a good smack and he laughs with his mouth full of coconut, nudging me away with his hip. "Don't be so sensitive!"

"I do what I please," I fire back. Penelo giggles.

"She  _is_ a princess, Vaan. She can boss you around."

"She's not the princess of Dalmasca," the boy counters. "And that's where _I'm_  from, so that's who I follow. Sorry, Shae. Looks like you'll have to run back to Larsa."

"That wouldn't be too bad," Penelo sighs, looking up at the clouds. Vaan rolls his eyes, plopping down beside her and shoveling more coconut into his mouth. "Hey... If we kill Vayne... Do you think you'll ever go back? I heard the Senate's gone for good. Larsa could use your help."

"Larsa's far better at the royal life than I," I admit with a shrug. "I'm sure you noticed. I'm not exactly one to sit in a throne and speak on politics and marry men from foreign countries for trade's sake. I'd rather fix my ship up and disappear."

"Forever?" I wince at her disappointed tone, forcing my hands onto my hips and cocking my head to the side. A grin pushes its way onto my face.

"Nah, I'll come visit you—as long as Vaan's not around."

"Hey!" I duck to avoid the coconut Vaan throws at my head. "You can't leave me alone after all this!"

"You and Penelo plan on pirating, don't you?" I straighten and dust the sand off my sleeves. "I can't baby you. You'll find your way and I'll follow mine."

"You know, that reminds me." Penelo sits up straighter, a slight frown crossing her face. "You... once told us that you choose your path and keep going forward because you can't backtrack."

"It's true," I reply, kicking at the sand. "I didn't mean that your chosen path won't come to a crossroads where you can change to a path you missed before, or even choose a new one. I only meant that there's no simple way to reverse your actions."

"Okay," she nods, chewing on her lip. "I, uh, think I'm going to find Fran now."

"Again?" Vaan huffs, tossing his empty coconut to the side and sheathing his dagger. "I'm staying here with Shae."

"I'm heading off too," I shrug, gathering my shoes and heading back toward Balfonheim despite the orphan's sputtered complaints.

Even more people are out and about now, talking and laughing in the street and along the docks. The sense of peace here makes my stomach turn. They feel so safe, so happy... Is it because they remain impartial to the war? Or because they don't fear attack? I shake my head, jumping when I knock into a man.

"Sorry," I mumble, keeping my head down as I start to pass.

"Shae." I turn back to see Basch looking at me, the slightest smile on his lips and his eyebrow quirked. "Learning some manners, I see. Odd."

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, I'll revoke my apology," I reply, grinning. "I only gave it freely because I assumed you were someone far more important. How's Ashe?"

"I have not seen her," the knight sighs, shaking his head. "But... she can manage on her own for now. Of that much I am certain."

"Oh? So you're loosening up? Odd."

"Indeed," Basch huffs, pushing the rest of his fair hair out of his face and scratching at his freshly trimmed beard. "Have you seen Balthier? I've a question to ask him."

"I haven't," I shake my head, a running boy catching my attention. "But there's Vaan."

"Not exactly a fair replacement," Basch replies lightly, glancing back at the boy. "That pirate had better be here somewhere. I dare not consider what Ashe might do if he ran after his father without us."

"Seems you won't have to." I jump, startled, and turn to see Balthier approaching with Fran at his heels, though her interest appears to be anywhere but the conversation. "Still doubting me after all this time, old man?"

"Old?" I scoff, nodding toward the knight. "He's far from it."

"But steadily approaching," Basch mutters, turning back to Vaan. "My apologies, Shae, but could you keep Vaan company for a while? I would prefer to speak with Balthier  _alone_."

"I just left him!" I protest, wishing I could stomp my foot on the ground like an indignant toddler.

"And now you can rejoin him," Balthier counters, raising an eyebrow. "It's your turn to babysit." Huffing, I fight the urge to stick out my tongue and stomp over to the thief.

"You're my new buddy," I grumble, grabbing Vaan's wrist and dragging him after me. "You said there was a plains area? Take me there. I want to see it."

"Geeze, who ruined your mood?" Vaan huffs, stumbling along behind me. "Who said what?"

"No one said anything!" I snap, veering around crowds of staring people. "And just... stop making assumptions! Why did someone have to say something for me to—"

"You're always mad when someone tells you what to do," Vaan shrugs, pulling his wrist free and picking up his pace to walk beside me. "The road up here leads to a path. That'll take us up to the Cerobi Steppe."

"Where'd you learn that?" I ask, frowning at him.

"The cartographer by the chocobos told me," he replies simply, grinning. "I'm smarter than you thought, huh?"

"No, you're still subpar," comes my dry retort.

The dirt is soft beneath our boots, molding to the shapes and patterns of the treads. Low hanging trees line the way up the initial hill, which hides the sunlight. The shadows are cool and dark, but in a soothing, peaceful way. Once the hill is crested we can see the endless stretch of grasslands spread out before us. Coeurls stroll about, pouncing on each other and chasing their tails. Birds fly across the clear, sunny sky, cawing to their mates. A thicket of deep green bushes and thick-trunked shrubs lies to the west. Vaan gives a satisfied sigh and plops down beneath the foliage of a nearby tree, folding his arms behind his head and grinning.

"Better than you thought?"

"Certainly a unique sight," I murmur, scanning the Steppe one last time before leaning against the trunk beside him. "Is this what you and Penelo were talking about earlier?"

"Yeah. It's nice and quiet up here."

"That doesn't strike me as something you would enjoy."

"Yeah, well, I prefer  _some_ noise."

"Vaan, you  _are_ the noise."

"It's what you need," he fires back, looking up at me. "Otherwise the Fates wouldn't have forced us together, right?"

"Following Basch's beliefs now, hm?"

"I dunno," he shrugs, sighing. "It just... seems like a point worth listening to. Repetition and all that."

"Well, I can  _promise_ you that the Fates didn't force us together because I needed more noise," I tease, sitting beside him and crossing my legs. I nudge him with my shoulder gently. "So, about Penelo."

"What about her?" he asks, tensing involuntarily. I fight a smile, shrugging.

"What's with you two? Just friends?"

"Uh,  _yeah_!" Vaan protests, scowling at me. "Me and Pen?" He feigns a gag. "Gross!" His face falls and he grumbles, "She's obsessed with that  _Lamont_ anyway."

"Larsa," I correct, rolling my eyes. I elbow him. "I bet you like her, though. You two are close, and she's  _very_ pretty."

"Stop, Shae," he huffs, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Alright, I'm just saying," I shrug, raising my hands innocently. "I think she likes you." There's a long pause before Vaan peels open one eye, glancing over at me.

"You think...?"

"Of course I do, that's why I  _said_ it," I scoff, leaning back on the palms of my hands. I flash a smug smile. "So you  _are_ interested."

"I never said that!" he exclaims, his voice raising two whole octaves. I laugh, shoving his shoulder.

"You never spoke the words, but your reaction said it all. Don't worry; I won't tell anyone."

"Swear it," Vaan demands, straightening. "On Larsa's life."

"That's a bit drastic," I sniff, making a show of looking over my short nails. "Besides, I'm not sure I could tell  _nobody._ Perhaps Fran. And Basch."

"No!" he shouts, pushing me so hard I fall on my side into the dirt, laughing uncontrollably. "Fran talks to Penelo all the time!" Promptly, he returns to his pouting.

"What's with you and Balthier?" he asks, finally breaking the silence. I sigh, straightening and brushing the streaks of mud off my bare shoulder.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing, huh? I was supposed to room with  _him_ last night but I got stuck with Basch instead. And he snores a lot."

"Balthier's not much better," I mutter, shaking my head. Vaan's uncomfortable frown grows into a smirk as he casually looks up at the sky.

"Y'know, a little birdie told me you got too distracted to take that bath."

" _Vaan—!"_

I'm cut off by an explosion of gunfire echoing from the thicket to the west. I scramble to my feet, pulling Vaan up with one hand and tugging my spear free with the other. The leaves from the bushes crunch and rattle and a young man breaks free. I narrow my eyes on the limping figure. He's practically a boy, clutching his bleeding arm and stumbling away from  _something._ His opponents appear to be three heavily armored Imperial soldiers, each armed with a gun and a sword. Suddenly, I recognize the boy and I'm running before I realize it.

"Shae!" Vaan calls, racing after me as I sprint across the grassy gap.

A bullet bites into my shoulder and I grit my teeth, coming up beside the young man and supporting him with an arm. Vaan sprints past, slashing at the first soldier with a shout. Forced into a dilemma, I set the boy on the ground and run back to help Vaan. The second soldier raises his gun to fire at my face just as I ram my lance through his midsection, pressing my forehead to the front of his helmet as I search for his agony through the slits in his armor.

I kick him off the end of my weapon before turning sharply to strike the blade out of the third's hands. Vaan dives in a second later, taking the soldier down in mere seconds. I turn back to the second and pull the scrambling man's helmet off in one hard jerk before driving my spear through his face as he makes one last effort and buries his blade in my thigh. Crying out, I grit my teeth and pry the dead man's sword from my flesh. Gripping my bleeding shoulder, I sling my spear back into its sheathe and limp back toward the young man hunched over on the ground. I fall to my knees hard, breathless.

"Jonan?" I force out, shaking his shoulder. He peels his bright blue eyes open and looks up at me, wincing before he coughs up a spray of blood. "Jonan, what...?"

"They finally found me," he grits, gasping when my hand brushes over a deep slice carved into his side. He forces a bloody smile, swallowing hard. "Fitting for the traitor to become the betrayed."

"What...?" My heart skips a beat and the urge to fall over and vomit overwhelms me.  _The Imperials always found us... Jonan always found us..._ I shake my head and move to help him up. A sharp pain burns throughout my entire upper body and suddenly I feel as though I can't breathe, as though I'm choking on blood. Jonan twists the dagger buried in my belly and a sob bubbles up from his bloody throat.

"Maybe if I carry through..." he trails off, throttled to the ground by Vaan. I lunge forward, crying at the pain as I rip the knife from the boy's grasp by its blade.

"Get off him," I choke out, tugging at Vaan's shoulder. The boy whips his head around, eyes wild.

"He tried to kill you!"

"He's not... in his right mind," I shake my head, forcing myself to my feet weakly and pressing a hand to my stomach. "We have to get him back."

"He said he was a traitor!" Vaan shouts back, hatred flooding his eyes.

"Traitor to  _who_?" I demand, coughing and wiping the blood splattered on my hand on my shirt. "Let's go. Carry him on your back."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not leaving unless you do," I snap. "So unless you want me to die too, I suggest you get moving."

Huffing, Vaan slides the taller but thinner boy onto his back and stumbles along beside me. I nearly slip on my way down the hill, my head growing lighter and spinning faster the longer we go. Blood drips from my leg, my shoulder, my stomach, leaving a streaky crimson trail and an eerie scarlet dye on my previously white shirt. As we enter Balfonheim, a woman gasps and drags her crying children away. The cartographer moogle stares with wide eyes before collapsing from his perch and falling into the chocobo pen.

"They're with the Princess's party!" a man calls, rushing forward and sliding an arm underneath mine to support me. "Can you walk?"

"I'll manage," I reply, though my voice is hardly heard.

He hurriedly leads the way back through the city, Vaan uncomfortably shifting the limp body on his back from time to time. Children run away and men clear the path, staring helplessly. The atmosphere of the town changes completely, its happy peace penetrated by horror and reality. As my senses fade, I hear the muffled demand of a familiar pair of voices.

"What happened?"

"He attacked her," Vaan snaps. I shake my head as much as I can, rasping out my reply.

"No, he..." I choke out, cut off by another river of blood rising up my throat. Through bleary eyes, I see Balthier and Basch hurrying toward us. The man holding me up hands me over to Balthier, looking at Jonan.

"I don't know, but I saw them coming away from the Steppe. Could've been the wildlife."

"Jonan attacked her," Vaan repeats, glaring at the young man that Basch took off his back.

"No, he  _didn't_!" I snap, hissing in pain and blocking the gush off blood from my stomach that tries to burst forth—caused primarily by the force of my protest. Balthier huffs, supporting me and nodding toward the inn.

"You can argue inside when you're not bleeding out."

I stumble along beside them, drifting in and out of clear consciousness. Penelo gapes at our condition, sitting at a small round table beside Fran, who stands and strides toward us wordlessly. Basch kicks open Balthier's room's door and lays the unconscious boy out on the floor. Penelo rushes in behind Fran, scanning over Vaan to make sure the blood on his skin isn't his own. The viera crouches beside Jonan, lifting off his ragged linen shirt and grabbing a sheet from the bed to press to his gashes.

"Penelo, you need to heal him," she commands, turning her crimson eyes up to the girl. She nods, kneeling beside Balthier's partner and screwing her eyes shut.

"What about Shae?" Vaan demands, earning a scowl from Balthier.

"Why don't you quit throwing a tantrum and purchase some potions?" the pirate snaps, helping me sit on the edge of the bed and handing me the other end of the sheet. "You just attract all sorts of trouble, don't you?"

"I don't try," I mutter, glancing up at him as my head starts to spin more violently than before. "Though I... suppose I've always been... accident prone."

"Stop talking," Balthier huffs, turning back to scowl at Jonan. "I never did trust him."

"He didn't do... any—" I stop to choke and cough until I can't breathe, my head pounding and ruining any sense of balance. Balthier shakes his head, accepting a plain potion from the innkeeper who just entered the room.

"This won't do much, but it's better than nothing," the pirate says dryly, twisting the cap off the glass vial and handing it to me. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking?" I grimace as I move my arm to take the curative, my shoulder burning around the bite of a lodged bullet. Balthier sighs and mutters something about how he has to do everything. "Head back," he commands, taking the potion back and tipping its glittering contents into my mouth. "And now we wait for Vaan... How's the rat?"

"He's stopped bleeding out," Penelo replies. "So that's good, I guess."

"He will recover if he is properly cared for," Fran reports. "But there were bullets. Vaan did not do this to defend Shae." The others turn to me expectantly.

"Imperials," I reply, feeling the fog over my mind fade ever so slightly, though I nearly fall forward off the mattress trying to scoot up. Balthier huffs, clutching my arm and pulling me back. "They were chasing him." I pause to cough, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the bed and pressing the sheet tighter to my leg. "And so we were all attacked. Jonan was out of his mind."

"He stabbed her," Vaan cuts in, entering the doorway.

"Where are the potions?" Balthier demands, scowling at the boy's empty hands. Vaan shrugs.

"I couldn't find them." Just as the frustrated pirate leaps up to shout at the incompetent churl, a young woman enters the room. "So, I found a healer instead." He enters the room, nodding toward me. "Your patient's over there."

~|~|~|~|~

"You're still awake?"

I look up to see Balthier leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as he watches me sit up and glance down at the unconscious boy on the floor. He sighs and nods toward Jonan.

"Vaan mentioned something about betrayal. What'd he do?"

"I don't know," I murmur, leaning forward enough to brush the mess of blonde hair out of Jonan's face gingerly. "He never got the chance to say."

"You were attacked?"

"Imperial soldiers were chasing him," I sigh. "That's how he got roughed up. One shot me and another cut my leg."

"And Jonan stabbed you."

"He wasn't thinking," I retort, scowling. "I don't know what he was doing, but he certainly wasn't trying to kill me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I don't care if you believe it or not," I huff, wincing as my body begins to ache from all my movement. "He's not  _your_  friend."

"Nor is he yours," Balthier points out. "What was it that you said? 'Something more?'"

"What's your issue with him, then, Balthier? If I'm  _so_ blind that I can't decide on my own relations, then  _please,_ enlighten me with your feelings on the subject." Unamused, Balthier rolls his eyes and steps into the room, sitting on the bed beside me a few inches away.

"I simply can't understand why a mere boy who's destroyed your ship, manipulated you, used you as a  _toy_ , and betrayed you can be 'something more.' Forgive my ignorance, but I can't seem to remember a time where he did anything good for you."

"He saved my life," I mutter. "More than once. Sometimes from pirates and imperials, sometimes from myself. He was the only one there to salvage my remaining sanity after..." My voice cuts off and I shake my head, glaring up at the nosey pirate through the hair hanging over my face. " _Forgive my stupidity,_  but I don't understand why you're accusing him of doing no good when  _he_  tried to help me save  _your brother_  when you wouldn't lift a single finger."

"Take it easy, Shae," comes a grumble from the floor. I look down to see Jonan stirring awake, his blue eyes blinking open slowly. "Not everyone can be as great as me." Upon seeing Balthier's irritated expression, he shakes his head. "Right. Not in the mood."

"How long have you been awake?" I ask, watching him start to sit up. He winces, rubbing the back of his head.

"Just about thirty seconds, honestly. Long enough to hear you lecturing your new friend." He looks back at the two of us. "Or is he 'something more'...?" He laughs weakly.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he breathes. "Stop mothering me."

"I'm not mothering," I huff, glancing at Balthier. The sky pirate runs a hand through his short blonde-tipped hair and traces the edge of one pointed sideburn. How he's kept them so precise for so long really is a wonder. "You were on the verge of death two hours ago."

"I'm not anymore." With great effort, he crosses his legs and faces us like a child ready to hear a story. "My head hurts, though. Where are we, a tavern?"

"You're not drinking," I snap. He only frowns, taking a deep breath. "Why were you being chased?" A sad smile pulls across his lips and his eyes flit up to mine.

"Do you really want to know?"

"We went through all this trouble to save your worthless life, so yes, we do," Balthier replies stiffly. "We wasted a day of travel for you."

"Ah. Chasing Daddy, are we?" He receives no reply, so he clears his throat awkwardly. "Imperials... Shae, you must know how far I've fallen down the drain. No money, plenty of debt, all that rabble. I was naïve when I first started out and now I'm paying for it." Jonan sighs, rubbing his bare shoulder absent mindedly. "After I met up with you in Rabanastre, I was approached by a Judge who offered to pay me a small fortune. All I had to do was follow you and report your whereabouts. I suppose they knew you were meeting with Lady Ashe by then."

"I did wonder why you were everywhere that we were," I grumble, frowning. "Go on."

"Eventually, I was contacted by Vayne himself. I was to continue my communications directly with Doctor Cid instead of the Judge. He also paid me to tell he and Cid everything I knew about you, no matter how old or useless the information was."

"And that's how Cid knew about Adamar's demise," Balthier sighs, leaning back against the wall on the other side of the bed.

"So they had you spying on us so that they knew where Ashe was at all times, and because I was with them, it wouldn't raise much, if any, suspicion," I conclude, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Yeah, well..." Jonan sighs. "The last command he gave me was to kill you. Just slit your throat and bury you far away from the others. They would think you just ran off and gave up the chase." He shrugs. "I told them I'd do it, but never meant it. I tried to run and hide, but somehow, I was found every time. This was strike three." He forces a weak smile on his face. "This time was my last strike. And the knife... Sorry about that. I thought that maybe if I immobilized you, they'd take you alive and you could escape on your own from Vayne. It was a desperate move, I know."

"But you didn't kill me," I remind him, trying my hardest to sound optimistic.

"Vayne went this far to be rid of you, then," Balthier sighs. "Perhaps he's better off managing that war of his."

"That's the problem," Jonan cuts in, shaking his head. "He knows Shae has information no one else on Ivalice could access unless it came from her. She could easily fuel Resistance with her personal experiences alone—not that she would do so because she cares about the Insurgence," he adds with a slight smile, glittering eyes turning to me. "It'd probably happen in one of her fits of rage."

"I don't have fits of rage," I huff, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, you do," Balthier and Jonan reply at the same time. The boy glances up awkwardly to meet Balthier's glower and gives an anxious laugh.

"Anyway, we're here now and you need to be chasing Doctor Cid, right?"

"How do we know if you're not still reporting?" Balthier cuts in.

"I... guess you don't," Jonan admits. "But they tried to kill me out there. Looks to me like I've run out of uses if Shae's not dead by the time they find me again." Something about his wording must have sounded like a threat because Balthier's fingers twitch by instinct, searching for a trigger that's not there. Sighing, I rest one of my hands on top of his before turning back to Jonan.

"And where are you going to go? I don't want them to kill you, Jonan."

"And why not?" he counters, a bitter bite enveloping his voice. His hands pick at the blanket wrapped loosely around his closed legs. "I've done nothing but ruin you in revenge for something you did purely out of panicked naivety six years ago. Don't try to sugar coat it, Shae. Those times, the ways I took my payments... That was  _rape._ That's not..." He clears his throat, swallowing hard. "That's not who I ever wanted to be, but here I am, I guess. Nothing more than a useless pile of  _shit_."

"That sounds about right," Balthier replies coldly. My heart hits the floor of my stomach.

"Balthier—!"

"However, I'm not concerned with what you've done. I've seen change in the brief time I've been acquainted with you," the sky pirate continues. "I can only hope that you're being sincere and wish you the best of luck in your escape." He stands, dusting off the front of his shirt. "I'm off to request clean sheets. If I were you, Jonan, I would escape from the western docks and head across the water until you reach Rozzaria's western coast. Imperial influence is not allowed there. And give your liver a break for Fate's sake."

With that, he starts toward the door. Overcome with gratefulness, I leap up on my throbbing leg and take one step, catching his wrist. He turns back to see why I stopped him; his only response is a chaste kiss. I pull away after a moment, glancing up at him.

"Thank you."

His eyes fall to the floor for half a second before flitting back up. He nods and pulls his arm free from my grip, leaving the room in steady strides. I sigh, falling back onto the edge of the mattress. Jonan huffs a short, breathy laugh.

"Shera, you really do have a true knack for making men fall in love with you." I frown down at him and his gaze falls away. "I wasn't excluded from that, you know." Unsure of what to say, I try to quiet my pounding heart and stare long and hard at the young sky pirate. He glances up at me uncomfortably and shakes his head. "Sorry, you don't need to say anything. I shouldn't have told you that." He moves to lay back down. "It's just... I thought you should know if I  _do_ get caught—"

"You won't get caught," I interrupt, forcing myself to make eye contact. "And I know you don't want to hear it, but I  _do_ love you. Just... in the sense of a brother, or a close friend. You deserve a lover far better than myself."

"I'd have to disagree," he murmurs, pulling his blanket up to his collarbone and closing his eyes. "But you're a woman, so I also have to consider the fact that you know everything."

"That's right," I laugh. "You do, don't you?"

Balthier reappears a few minutes later, slowly walking up to the doorway and looking in. He stares at Jonan for one long, silent moment before looking at me. "Is he asleep?"

"Yeah," I nod, brushing the sleeping boy's hair from his face gently. "Did you get that bedding?"

"They don't have enough," he shakes his head. "But there's a newly set up room on the other side of Fran's."

"It's alright, I don't mind sleeping in my own bloodstains," I tease, peering up at him with a slight smile. He shakes his head again, crossing his arms.

"I'll not have you stay in here with him overnight."

"But—"

"No. The boy's prone to stupid decisions. If he suddenly decides that he needs to carry through to save his life, there's no common sense there to stop him. So, you're going to sleep down the hallway."

"He has common sense," I huff, rolling my eyes and hobbling a few steps toward him before stopping to take a rest by leaning against the wardrobe. Balthier raises an eyebrow.

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen, but—"

"Exactly. No common sense," he cuts me off, stepping forward and pulling my arm over his shoulders. Acting as my support, he helps me limp down the hallway to my new inn room. Penelo wishes us goodnight as she closes she and Fran's door and Basch nods in greeting as he walks past. He closes Jonan's door for us and heads downstairs. Balthier opens the door to the new room and helps me get to a chair before letting go, scanning the darkness.

"Are you heading back to your room?"

"Perhaps..." his voice trails off and he shakes his head. I frown, watching the sky pirate think. Since we met his father... I've never seen him at such a loss for words for so long. He never seems to know just what to say anymore. He's always scatterbrained. He's lost his honeyed, smooth diction. He paces across the room, resting one hand on his hip and running the other through his hair as he stares out the barred window.

"Balthier?"

"We should get the blood washed out of those clothes. They're torn as well," he says suddenly, turning to face me.

"Is that an odd sort of request for me to take my clothes off?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Technically, yes, that's what I'm asking," he admits. "But only for the sake of having clean laundry. The woman working in the back wouldn't mind patching that hole in your pants."

"I'll trust you on this one," I mutter, though I'm only joking.

I stand and limp to the door, closing it and tossing my crimson-spotted shirt at Balthier. I'm lucky I'm wearing a black half-shirt beneath. He catches the shirt, waiting expectantly for my black pants. Once he also has those in hand, he helps me toward the bed and starts toward the door. Just as his fingers wrap around the doorknob, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder.

"You know... if you wanted everything cleaned, you could also take off your underg—"

"No, you disgusting imbecile," I snap.

He chuckles, shaking his head and leaving the room. I huff a disbelieving laugh and curl up beneath the heavy blankets.  _We're a day behind Cid. But..._ But we saved Jonan's life. That's more than anything I could have ever asked for. Tomorrow, we start our long days of travel up again. Whatever will bring Vayne's reign to an end, I'll follow. It's not so much about revenge anymore. It's about protecting those I love from greed and death.

Just as I drift toward the edge of sleep, all light cast from the hallway blacks out and the bed shifts until a wall of warmth hits my back. Fighting sleep off for only a moment longer, I turn onto my other side and curl up against Balthier's back. His vest is gone now; it's just his smooth white shirt. I shake my head and go still, finally ready to rest. No, the Fates didn't "force" us together for Vaan's noise or for an adventure or for my money problems. I was placed here to find something worth living for, other than vengeance. And here, in the dark and the quiet of this madhu-scented inn room, I wholly believe I might've found it.


	42. The Way to Giruvegan

The salty wind tugs at my hair and nips at my face, a crisp, cool embrace that envelops me in the scent of the sea. The sun is steadily reaching its peak in the sky, gently kissing my skin with its warm, golden glow. Behind me, Reddas sings out the same jolly tune he's belted all morning; even Vaan and Basch seem to be humming along at this point, tapping their toes to the invisible rhythm that dances through the lively afternoon air. Fran's ears are flat to her hair, tired of blowing about. Penelo stands at the viera's side, redoing her shining blonde pigtails and lacing tawny feathers into the ends. Ashe disappeared below deck hours ago and Balthier leans against the edge of the ship's deck, watching with bored intrigue as Reddas's powerful arms guide the vessel one way or another. The open sea is a wonder, but it's no match for the freedom of the sky.

"How much longer, do you think?" Vaan asks, sitting on the wooden deck at Basch's feet and peeling his steel vest off.

"Several hours yet," Reddas replies with a hearty laugh. "Had you refused my help, you'd be walking for  _days,_ my boy."

"Yeah," Penelo laughs sheepishly, tying the end of her pigtail with a small rubber band. "Thank you for the ride, Reddas."

"It's no problem at all, really," the pirate replies, flashing a bright white grin. "I owe a bit to Her Majesty."

"Hell yeah you do," I tease, turning back to raise an eyebrow at him. "Tell me, Reddas: who are you, really?"

"I was once a man dishonorable and driven by greed," he replies, keeping his expression steady. "Who I am now... Why, I'm a pirate!" He laughs, long and loud. "I've the glittering of the sea and the gracious beauty of princesses to keep me company now."

"What else could a man need?" Balthier mutters, crossing his arms and turning his gaze out toward the endless sea, a nook of salt water trapped between the inlands of Balfonheim and the shores along the very edge of the Golmore Jungle. "Of course, I do prefer the clouds over the water, but a boat ride is a nice change of pace."

"Ah, see? Once you get a taste of the current, you don't ever feel fulfilled," Reddas chuckles.

"I don't think fulfillment is something I'd prefer to lack," I retort, though I'm smiling as I turn back toward the waters we glide over. "Where are you leaving us off, anyway?"

"An inlet along the edge of the Golmore Jungle. That should be a good place to start your journey to the Feywood." Reddas's platinum eyebrows grow heavy on his dark eyes. "Though, I would make haste once on land. I don't know how patient Doctor Cid will be."

"It all depends on his plans," Balthier sighs, straightening and leaning his elbows back against the edge of the ship. "He was patient enough for Venat; I doubt he'll have trouble waiting for Ashe."

"Why does he want her to follow him there, anyway?" I frown, glancing at him over my shoulder. "It doesn't seem as though his plans involve his own  _son_  in any way."

"Likely something to do with that cursed spirit that looms over his shoulder day in and day out," Balthier spits bitterly, turning his sharp eyes away from me and onto the deck. "Ashe is not as weary of the Stones' power as she should be. If she's not careful she could wind up just—"

"Like your father," I finish, sighing. "And I suppose no one would want that, hm?"

"It could stop Vayne, though, right?" Vaan asks, leaning forward. "If she used the power?"

"Power does wonders to one's mind," I huff, hopping up onto the lipped edge behind me. "One moment, Vayne was a caring, story-reading friend, and the next, he was murdering his own brothers to make way for his walk to the throne." I shake my head. "It all starts with an innocent taste, and it doesn't matter who you are and how strong your resolve is. Power always wins."

"Not always," Basch cuts in. "If you desired power, you wouldn't be here."

"I suppose that's true," I admit, laughing to myself. "Though, what power would I possess? I could never take on Vayne all on my own, and I doubt winning Dalmasca back for Ashe will give me much in return. I'm here because I'm in far too deep to remove myself from the picture."

"So, you're here until the bitter end is what I'm hearing," Balthier clarifies. I nod.

"Seems so."

"Looks like you're stuck with her," Vaan teases, wiggling his eyebrows at the sky pirate. Balthier rolls his eyes and nods toward his viera partner.

"The only person I'm  _stuck_ with is  _her_."

"Why is that such a bad thing?" Fran asks, arching an eyebrow. "Do you tire of me?"

"Never, Dearest," Balthier replies, his lips curling into a boyish smile. "I was only remembering how long we've been together."

"Far too long," Fran mutters, eliciting a giggle from Penelo and another eye-roll from her partner. "You are as Shae calls you: an incompetent buffoon."

"Strong words for a kind-hearted woman such as yourself," Balthier counters sarcastically, straightening to look up over the second level of the ship. "I'm off to explore the rest of this raft."

"And there he goes, escaping his accusations yet again," Reddas jokes. Balthier shoots a sour look over his shoulder before climbing the stairs and disappearing onto the towering roof of the captain's quarters.

"Have you seen Ashe today?" I ask Basch, turning to face the knight. He shakes his head, his blonde hair brushing over his broad shoulders.

"Not since dawn. I thought it best to give her some privacy."

"She  _is_ always with you, isn't she?" Penelo asks.

"Must be suffocating," Vaan scoffs. "I can't even stand  _Pen_ all day, but a  _bodyguard_? No thanks."

"The life of royalty is far different from a street rat's," I assure the boy, brushing my hair out of my face and stretching my arms over my head. Just as Basch starts to speak, a clatter erupts from the top deck. I roll my eyes, walking toward the stairs. "I'll go keep an eye on the idiot above."

"Don't do too much smoochy-smoochy!" Vaan calls. Penelo laughs and Fran shakes her head, her speckled ears twitching as she suppresses a smile. Huffing irritably, I head up the staircase to see Balthier stacking a set of mops back up against the rail.

"What are we up to?" I ask casually, strolling up to the sky pirate and crossing my arms. "It's unlike you to be clumsy."

"I was thinking," Balthier huffs, picking up the last mop and thrusting it toward me. "Mind swabbing the deck, or whatever it is these uncultured sea-swine say?"

"I'm a  _princess,_ mind you," I retort, raising an eyebrow. "I don't do that sort of thing. I leave that to low-life men such as yourself."

"Yes, but you offer to bury yourself up to your elbows in grease and mechanics," the pirate scoffs, setting the mop with the others and turning out to the ocean. I lean my shoulder against the wooden wall, crossing my ankles and shaking my hair out of my eyes.

"What were you so  _deeply_  pondering that you couldn't see a dozen musty mops?"

"I suppose most of what's transpired in the last few days," Balthier admits, his eyes practically glowing green in the sunlight. "Jonan, Venat, Cid, Reddas... It's all quite the adventure, isn't it? Not what you were expecting to find, I'm sure."

"Definitely not," I scoff, shaking my head. "I never thought I'd think much about..." I sigh, taking a deep breath. Impatient, Balthier finishes my sentence for me.

"Adamar? You preferred that he died and that be that, didn't you?" I nod and he chuckles, sparing me a glance. "If only it worked like that. We might be far different people today, hm?"

"Perhaps." I cock my head to the side, meeting Balthier's inquisitive gaze head-on. "Do you ever... think about what will happen if we  _do_ win this? If Ashe takes back her kingdom and Vayne is defeated... If Larsa takes over Archadia... What then?"

"Then we go back to before," Balthier shrugs, tearing his eyes away to stare at the glittering blue waves. "Fran and I take to the skies and you repair your ship, with Jonan's assistance perhaps. Vaan and Penelo find a way to chase their pirating dreams and Basch guards Ashe like a lost pup." His narrow on the water. "I suppose we'll all get together occasionally, for old time's sake. People can't do without each other for long after such a trip as this." He pauses, brows twitching closer together. "Perhaps you and I will cross each other in the sky every now and then."

"Every now and then," I repeat. I meant to say the words merely to see how they tasted, but I suppose they were bitter enough to change my tone, and the irritation catches Balthier's ear all too easily.

"What did you expect? We've our own lives to attend to, don't we?" He sighs, shaking his head and turning his eyes over to mine. "That, of course, does not mean we'll become instant enemies, Shae. You know that." A slight smile flickers onto his face, bringing the youth back to his face. "You don't have to fear being  _friendly_ when we cross."

"Of course not," I scoff, rolling my eyes and pushing my weight off the wall.  _What else did I expect? It's all they ever want._ My feet immediately move to carry me away from the tension, my back swiftly turning to the conflicted sky pirate. He takes a deep breath, sensing that he's said something wrong.

"Where are you going now?"

"Away," I reply sharply, glancing over my shoulder but not quite meeting his demanding stare. "I'm off to speak to people whose lives truly matter in the long run. You know, my  _friends,_ if I dare call them that." I shrug. "This isn't worth the investment if you only want an occasional  _friend_ to warm your sheets. I already have  _Jonan_ for that, and he most certainly doesn't take it for granted _._ "

"Fates above, women truly  _are_ melodramatic creatures," Balthier grumbles, stepping toward me and taking hold of my shoulders, forcing me to look up at him. "What do you expect me to do, then, Shera? Create a party of three? Give Fran the boot? It can't work like that, and don't you  _dare_  use innocent words against me. I was only joking; of course, I'll come around as often as I  _feel_ like it."

"Of course," I force a smile onto my face, rolling my eyes.  _Liar._ " _Forgive me_ ; I suppose I merely misunderstood your words."

"Surprising for you," he scoffs, raising an eyebrow and loosening his grip on my arms.  _They always say they'll come back._  "You've always understood everything  _perfectly_."

"Shut it," I laugh, shoving his hands away.  _But..._ "You're one to talk."

"I am? The leading man doesn't suffer from bouts of confusion, Shae. You should know this by now."

"Hm? It seems you're a bit lost already," I murmur, tracing the back of a finger along the edge of his jaw. "There's a  _dilemma_ in that little brain of yours," I add, tapping the side of his temple.  _In the end..._

"You think you read me so well," he mutters, rolling his eyes, though he doesn't resist when I stand on my toes and press my lips to his, effectively shutting off his string of excuses.

_They never return._

~|~|~|~|~

"How much farther do you think we have now?" Vaan asks, the voice of a whining child slipping through his words.

"An hour or so, my boy," Reddas answers, leaning against the edge of his ship's broad wheel with a pleasantly contented look on his face. "Watching the sun go down doesn't make it fall any faster."

"What now?" Vaan frowns, raising an eyebrow.

"Counting the minutes doesn't make the hour pass quicker," I sigh, twisting the rings around my fingers absently.  _Beldroth, Dern, a thief, Jonan..._ I huff, jerking my touch away from the jewelry and facing the sea. The cabin door slams shut and I hear footsteps pacing toward where most of us stand. Fran climbed up onto the mast to watch the world pass in peace and Penelo laid down hours ago due to a bout of seasickness that arose when Vaan began pushing her around on deck as the ocean rocked us back and forth.

"Oh, that makes more sense, I guess," Vaan huffs, slouching against the wall.

"Majesty," Basch greets. I turn to see him striding toward Ashe and draping a thin blanket over her shoulders. "The air grows cool as night falls."

"I might have retrieved my own source of warmth had I felt the cold, Basch," Ashe admonishes gently, allowing a small smile and pulling the fabric tighter around her. "But I thank you for your consideration."

"Tis but my job," Basch replies, a smile glittering in his eyes before his gaze flickers up toward Balthier. The sky pirate looks as though he's mulling over something, pacing and turning a tiny trinket I can't distinguish over and over in his hands. Finally, he gulps a deep breath and turns on his heels abruptly, starting toward Ashe at such a sudden pace that she steps back instinctively.

"Give me your hand," Balthier demands. Ashe frowns, but complies after a moment anyway. I fight a grin; he really has wormed his way into her stubborn little heart. The pirate takes hold of her pale hand, tracing his thumb over her slender fingers before flipping her palm up and pressing the small object he toyed with into her hand. He forces her into making a fist around the piece and offers a weak, forced smile. "Your compensation, Majesty. I found the valuable  _something_  I was searching for." I turn back to facing the ocean, my breath caught, my heart hammering, my face reddening.  _A valuable something? Compensation?_ Oh. I forgot Rabanastre, all that time ago...

_"Compensation, is that what you want?" Ashe demands. Balthier smiles, his voice morphing into a dangerous purr._

_"Straight to point, aren't we?" He lowers his chin to see the nearing princess better. "I like that." He cocks his head to the side, motioning toward Ashe's hand. "Compensation? How about the ring." Something flashes in the royalty's eyes._

_"This?! Isn't there something else?"_

_Balthier shakes his head, shrugging and holding out a hand._

_"No one's forcing you."_

_Sighing, Ashe reluctantly pulls the glittering silver ring from her finger and watches it glint in the room's dim light. The room falls to a deathly silence as she drops the metal band into the sky pirate's waiting palm. Balthier looks from the ring to the princess's face and closes his hand around the jewelry._

_"I'll give it back to you—as soon as I find something more valuable."_

I take a deep breath and shake my head.  _He can't mean... He wouldn't. Balthier's not that sort of man._ I jump when I feel a hand resting at the small of my back, turning to see the sky pirate eyeing me, humored. Huffing, I turn back out to the rippling waves of fiery reds and brilliant yellows.

"Deep in thought, were we?"

"Not too deep," I shrug. Forcing a laugh, I shake my head and nudge him with my shoulder. "So, Leading Man, what  _treasure_ have you found that warranted the return of Her Majesty's wedding ring?"

"I assumed it was due time I returned it," he chuckles, pulling his hand away to lean his elbows against the wooden railing along the deck. "I've plenty of valuables to cover the costs of the silly little band."

"Silly?"

"I suppose I never understood the use of  _rings_ to represent any sort of commitment," he shrugs, eyes locked on the rolling, white-capped waves. "They never meant anything to me but money."

"Perhaps that's because you wear them as often as a bangaa pierces his snout," I retort, rolling my eyes. "Do those mean nothing to you, then?"

"They mean wealth. Do  _yours_  mean anything different?" Balthier counters, raising an eyebrow. I roll my eyes, holding out my hands.

"Of course—at least most of them do." I point to the two stacked on my right ring finger. "These are from Beldroth, my brother, and the other is a gift from Larsa."

"Also, your brother."

"Yes, thank you for the reminder," I mutter, pointing at the gold band around my left pinky, ring finger, and index finger. "This was a gift from Dern—for my eighteenth birthday—, this a trinket from a thief I monitored, and this a reminder of Jonan."

"You hardly need a reminder for the brat," Balthier murmurs, glancing over at me. "You're certain you keeping that? It might be easier that way."

"Jonan's a disgusting _ass_ , but he has his moments. What, are you planning to hand this over to your  _master_ as well?"

Balthier chuckles, straightening. I follow, raising an eyebrow smugly as he gazes over at Ashe. Shaking his head, Balthier rests a hand on my shoulder and pinches my chin between his fingers.

"Careful, Highness; I wouldn't want my return of that silver to be a waste. You  _were_ my inspiration after all." Easily having rendered me speechless, the pirate ducks down and captures my lips, pulling away all too soon and turning back to Reddas with a stupid grin on his face. "Captain, how long until we arrive?"


	43. Getting a Move On

“You didn’t tell me you had this stuff stashed back here,” I practically cry, snatching up an entire cantaloupe as Reddas chuckles, scratching the back of his shining bald head.

“I told you I had some fresh produce from the local farms around Balfonheim,” he reminds me, watching as I clutch the melon to my chest protectively, glaring daggers at Vaan’s hungry eyes. I tug the knife in my boot from its sheathe and stab my way into the fruit, eagerly chowing down the second its cut in half. Vaan huffs, taking the other half and offering to split it with Fran and Penelo.

“You’d think we’re starving her,” Balthier comments smugly, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow as he watches me slice a piece of cantaloupe out of its shell and plop it into my mouth with a dramatic moan. Ashe returns the expression, struggling with a grimace.

“Quite sloppy for a princess, don’t you think?” she comments. I spit a white seed out at her, rolling my eyes when she flinches and accidentally elbows Balthier’s stomach. Reddas laughs heartily and sits atop an iron-buckled barrel, crossing his burly arms.

“She’s just like her mother, I’ll tell you that much.”

“You knew her?” I ask, swallowing my mouthful of melon with a frown. "I can't say I'm surprised; everyone seems to know far more about my life than I do." Balthier sighs, rolling his eyes and leaning against the edge of the table in the center of the dining cabin. I scowl at him. “What?”

“You're right. Everyone seems to know innumerable details about your life—and yet somehow, no one—at least in Dalmasca—recognized you. I simply cannot understand it.”

“She hid,” Fran replies simply, raising the end of my long braid over my head.

“Give me that,” I huff, snatching my hair away and turning back to Reddas. “How did you know her?”

“I knew  _of_  her,” the pirate corrects, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “I was a mere training soldier in Archades when she first arrived. There was a case rising high in the ranks of the courts because of a merchant—a woman, actually, from Nalbina who was traveling Ivalice and rumored to have been scamming people with false treasures and trinkets. She certainly was a free spirit.” He sighs, flashing a smile. “The case climbed all the way up to the Senate. The emperor, your father, was curious—naturally—and decided to meet with the woman himself. He wanted to understand how she’d successfully conned so many of his people.”

“A good escape plan!” Vaan calls with a mouth full of fruit. I cringe at the saliva-diluted juice dribbling from his chin and turn back to Reddas. The pirate shakes his head, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“He knew the answer the minute he laid his eyes on her. It was her beauty—it had a gripping effect that left its viewers enchanted until she snapped her fingers and left them wallowing in their own self-pity at the mere thought of losing to her pretty face. I remember having quite the favor for her, myself, and I was only a boy! Emperor Gramis took quite a liking to her and had her held in the palace. She was nothing the people of Archades had ever seen before. Slender and strong, golden skin, honey brown eyes… she was a gorgeous creature, to be sure.”

“I think he still has it for her,” Vaan laughs and Reddas shakes his head, though his ears color just a touch.

“No, no. Nonsense. Anyway, this woman was quite the fighter and wouldn’t fall for the Emperor without a good reason. But she was an incredibly intelligent woman, sharp as a whistle; her plan came quickly and easily. Once she had it set, she went through the motions, warming the Emperor’s sheets when his wife was away and all that. She was held back by one  _small_ impediment for nearly a year. Lo and behold, after a mere year of living in the palace, she gave birth to her Ladyship Shera Castean Solidor.”

“Go me,” I huff, scooping another bite into my mouth. Balthier raises an eyebrow.

“You hardly did anything deserving of celebration.”

“What do you mean?” I retort. “I escaped her—”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Penelo interrupts, urging Reddas to continue with his storytelling.

“There’s not much left to tell,” he admits with a gentle laugh. “A week later, she disappeared, and coincidentally, so did half of Archades’ treasury.”

“I can respect  _those_  roots,” Balthier chuckles, glancing at his partner.

“And you never heard from her again?” I ask, frowning. Reddas shakes his head and I sigh, leaning my chin against my palm. “I wonder if she buried the treasure somewhere in Nalbina.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re concerned with?” Ashe demands, raising an eyebrow. “From what Reddas said, you’re practically a rebirth of your mother, and you have yet to bat an eye!”

“I used to hear the comparison a lot,” I shrug, taking another bite of my melon half. “I don’t see why it should matter  _now_ of all times. Besides, I find pleasure in treasure, not in seeking out the missing pieces of my messy past.”

“Family creates important ties, no matter what happens after you’ve grown,” Reddas comments. “You received your intelligence and strength from your mother—not to mention inherited most of her marvelous beauty. Balthier, for example, caught the free spirit and genius of his father.”

“Yes, and let’s hope I don’t catch his future as well,” Balthier grumbles bitterly, obviously unhappy with the comparison.

“Where’d Dern get his height and all his big muscles?” I ask, fighting a grin. Balthier scoffs as if the answer is all too obvious.

“His lack of brains, where else?”

“Come, now,” I laugh. “He was an inventor!”

“He crafted one half-decent sky stone,” he retorts, turning to Ashe. “Tomorrow morning, we take off at sunrise.” I sigh, resting my temple against the heel of my hand.  _And now he’s back to being incredibly serious. Damn._ “Which means we should get some rest. Goodnight.” He disappears behind the beaded curtain dividing the cabin in two. I stand, stretching, and rest a hand on Reddas’s bare arm.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely, earning a nod and heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Vaan asks, frowning as I start to leave. I shrug, feigning nonchalance.

“I’d like to sleep outside tonight.”

The deck creaks under my feet, the ship rocking gently with the waves that lap at her sides. The anchor’s chain pulls us back and forth slightly, keeping us perpendicular to the shore. I heave a sigh and lean forward against the lipped edge of the ship, staring out at where the ocean meets the starry sky in a stiff embrace.

The stories of the past… They always make me pensive, leave me wondering of what could’ve been. If my mother hadn’t stepped into Archades. If she had been banned and that was simply it. If she had bothered to stay and love her own daughter. I shake my head, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. But that’s too far back. Now, I have a vendetta against one brother and an alliance with another. I have a princess and her carnival crew. And I have my spirit, my strength, and my will. That’s all I’ve needed until now—except for companionship, I suppose.

“A wonder that you left the chaos.” I jump, startled, and turn to see Basch strolling up behind me. “That seems to be where you’re always sure to be found.”

“You’re joking,” I scoff. “That’s  _Vaan’s_ habitat.”

“Yes, that must be why he's drawn to you,” the knight muses. “You’re the one who creates the calamity he so revels in.”

“Think what you want, old man,” I laugh, shaking my head and turning back to face the sea.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, I’m just exhausted.”

“I see,” he mutters, standing at my side and narrowing his eyes on the sky. “Just as I predicted, you and Balthier seem to be quite the match.”

“Right,” I huff, rolling my eyes. He arches an eyebrow.

“You don’t think so?”

“I shouldn’t have started all this,” I murmur, kicking at the floorboards awkwardly. “We should be focusing on why we’re here; it’ll just end like all the others.”

“And that is how?”

“You don’t want to know,” I offer a small, sad smile. Basch sighs, shaking his head.

“Of course you can’t lose focus, that’s a given, Shae. But… haven’t you noticed?” He leans forward on his elbows, peering at me from the corners of his eyes. “Everything that’s worth fighting for revolves around people. You can’t  _live_ by isolating yourself.”

“Yes, Father Basch,” I laugh, nudging his arm playfully. He smiles, shaking his head.

“I’m serious—don’t take me lightheartedly, Majesty.”

“Don’t call me that,” I retort, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’ve got diluted royal blood, but that hardly means I’m a bloody damsel who requires every ounce of your respect.”

“If you heed my words, I’ll heed yours.”

“You’re fairly rude for a knight.”

“What about my words has not held regard for your stature, Highness?”

“ _Basch!_ ” I shove him, exasperated as he chuckles. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs, shaking his head, his blonde hair brushing over his shoulders gently. “Perhaps the escape from the death and destruction of the Empire, with all its bloodshed and apathy.” Basch scratches at his beard, glancing up at me. “I suppose I understand why you and Balthier ran.”

“The organized hustle and bustle were too much for me,” I shrug, fighting a devilish smile. “I suppose my own chaos is where I belong.”

“I was right, see?” Basch straightens, stretching his arms over his head. “Your mother—she sounds just like you.”

“I’d never abandon my child to that man,” I snap, taking a deep breath. “I don’t understand. I received every piece of her  _except_ for her indifference. I can’t leave people to suffer, even when they deserve it. I’m not nearly as selfish as a sky pirate  _should_ be.”

“You’re a thief with a heart of gold,” Basch replies simply.

“Thief?” I scoff, looking over at him to see his blue eyes reflecting the twinkling light of the stars. “What have I stolen?”

“A few hearts,” Basch mutters, his eyes flickering to mine as a slight smile tugs at the edges of his stern face. “And Balthier’s mints.”

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I accuse, laughing. He shakes his head.

“I’ve not had a drop of drink since we left Balfonheim. I only meant to wish you well.”

“Well, thanks,” I shrug. “But I don’t need your words of wisdom. I’ve got some survival instincts on my side.”

“Those have worked well enough,” Basch nods. “Very well. I’ll return to the cabin for the night.”

“Goodnight.”

I lean back against the sturdy ship and sink to the ground as Basch closes the door behind him firmly. Resting my forehead against my arms as they lie crossed over the tops of my knees, I heave a sigh.  _Why the hell's it matter ** **now**** , Shera? You’ll only see him out of your life at the first sign of danger—why bother? _I huff, looking across the deck at the moon through bleary eyes.  _Because… I’m so tired of being alone._

~|~|~|~|~

The ground feels like its rocking back and forth beneath my feet as we trek from the sandy shores to the thick edge of the jungle. Reddas waves a final time before rowing himself back out to his ship. I take a deep breath of the humid, heavy air, brushing my hair out of my face and finding myself walking beside Vaan. The youth grins at me wearily, stretching his arms over his head.

“Sleep well out there?”

“Not exactly,” I shrug, twisting a bit on my armored wrist. He nods, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“I can tell. You’ve got some bad dark circles.”

“Gee, thanks,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I just… I dunno, couldn’t stop thinking about what might be next.” I lower my voice, eying the back of the sky pirate that leads us, head held high and shoulders back. “Doctor Cid is a madman, and we all know how Balthier gets when his father’s the main issue.”

“Yeah,” Vaan huffs, shaking head. “He’s got some problems Fran’s gotta fix. Not that you don’t, though,” he teases. “We’re a group of problem-people.”

“Probably why Vayne hates us so much,” I mutter. The thief laughs.

“Well, one of us is trying to take over his reign of terror and the other is his traitor sister, so…” His voice trails off and he shrugs. “It’s not hard to understand  _why_ he’d be after us.”

“You’re so  _wise,_ Vaan,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow. He grins.

“You’re too kind, Shae.”

“Yeah, I know,” I wink, frowning when we get past the sand and enter the thick, humid jungle for the third time since we started our quest to stop Vayne.

The jungle is just as dark as we remember it, though this time we’re not attacked by an endless onslaught of panthers. Balthier leads the way, his steps hurried as he rushes to make up for the time we lost whilst resting up for the next leg of our journey. A rather short path leads us west. The rubbery jungle tears clear into a wood of towering trees the height and width of Archadia’s buildings. Moss and ivy crawl over the ground, winding up tree trunks and lining the path. A heavy fog obscures our vision, making it difficult to see anything a few feet ahead of us.

It’s not long before we’re attacked by a cluster of small, angry creatures that swat at our legs with their little limbs and sticks. I almost feel bad killing them; they’re pretty cute. Balthier doesn’t hesitate once our small foes have been defeated, charging right back down the path. I sigh, pushing my spear into its place on my back and hugging my arms to myself. My body’s still sore from my injuries in Balfonheim, but it’s not terrible compared to the damp chill surrounding me. Penelo shudders, gripping her staff and pulling it closer to her small frame, sharply looking about as the lack of visual makes her anxious.

The fog thickens to the point that we can hardly see each other. The sound of wolves howling echoes all around, but I can’t pinpoint its source, staring hard at the dull glint of Vaan’s vest in an attempt to keep an eye on him. Balthier says something up ahead and Ashe replies, but it’s all so muffled. They must be far, far ahead. Another round of howling sets off and I stop, turning around. It sounded so close, I was sure...

I’m thrown to the ground as two paws pummel into my back, claws digging into my skin as jaws snap down on the back of my neck, tearing into my flesh. I cry out, gritting my teeth and trying to turn over. A bark hits my ears and two more wolves come rushing in. Reaching back, I grab the first wolf’s leg and jerk hard, earning a snap to the hand. I take the moment of distraction to stand, sprinting away.

The wolves jump at me, clamping their jagged teeth down on my arms, my legs, my clothes, trying their hardest to ground me again. Desperately, I pull my spear free and attack one of the wild dogs, only to have another pounce on my back, nails dragging down my back and tearing in long, jagged, bloody cuts. I summon up a fire spell, burning one wolf enough to push it back. My spear slices through the second’s belly, blood pouring down onto the muddy ground when I jerk the weapon out and use the butt of the lance jab at the wolf on my back. The burned wolf jumps back in, gripping the end of my braid in his jaws and tugging hard. I clench my jaw, stumbling under the force of the pull. The wounded wolf snaps at my ankles and the first to attack sends me flying forward with another clamping bite.

My first instinct is to curl over, protecting my head with my arms as they’re ripped to shreds. My mind is racing with all sorts of possibilities, like if I’ll die or if I can fight my way out of this one. Teeth and claws alike pull at me, ripping me to ribbons. Hot blood spills across my skin and I bite my tongue, refusing to scream for help.  _I can get out of this on my own. I’m not weak._ And then the first gunshot goes off, followed by four more. I leap to my feet, ready to fight back only become so unbelievably light headed that I stumble backward and land back on the ground, head spinning and my already limited vision wavering in and out.

“Dammit, Shae,” a voice huffs, someone lifting me so that I’m sitting. I blink the blood out of my eyes and see Balthier scowling down at me. “Always ruining my travel plans.”

“Sorry,” I huff, wincing when his hand presses to a group of shredded holes in my back. “Where is everyone?”

“We paused to regroup and saw that you had disappeared,” he replies, slowly pulling me to my feet, an arm looped under both of mine. “I told them to stay put. Otherwise, we’d all be separated.” He steps forward I follow, though the movement is agonizing and I nearly faint just from that.

“ _Gods,_ ” I hiss, clutching my stinging side. “You couldn’t have… brought them with you?”

“I preferred the moment of silence.”

“You’re a  _moron_ ,” I grit, taking another step. “If there… was ever a time I wanted… you to consider me a damsel in distress,” I force, my breaths ragged and my knuckles white from gripping his shirt so hard. “It’s now.” Despite our circumstances, Balthier flashes a slight smile, letting go of me to give an extravagant bow.

“Of course,  _Majesty_.”

“Don’t overdo it,” I snap, throwing an arm around his neck and letting him lift me up into the air. “See? Much easier.”

“On your part,” Balthier mutters, navigating his way back through the fog. My head spins, throbbing with each step he takes. Blood turns his sleeves from white to crimson, my shirt having been soaked long ago.  _Must’ve looked like a good snack._  “We’re nearly there.”

“Should’ve taken a potion,” I mumble, closing my eyes in hopes that my mind’s wavering will level out. I suppose, technically, it does.


	44. Giruvegan

My eyes force open, drawing me out from an eternal world of darkness. The dim light burns and I flinch, suddenly realizing that I’m draped over someone’s back, my arms slung limply over their shoulders and their two hands are tucked underneath my knees. I lift my head up, looking around us. Vaan walks to my right, a shred of bloody fabric tied tightly around his upper arm. To my left, Fran’s eyes are searching through the thinned mist that now swarms around us, each droplet of water reflecting an image of us back.

“Hey, look who woke up,” Vaan teases gently, offering a slight smile. I sigh, letting my head fall back onto Basch’s shoulder.

“Unfortunately. How long was I out?”

“Long enough,” Balthier replies, though I can’t see him.

“What’s happened?

“Ashe was poisoned by a giant flower,” Vaan replies simply. “The amount of magick it took to heal her wiped Pen out, so now Balthier’s giving her a ride.”

“ _Don’t_ word it like that,” I scoff. 

Balthier chuckles despite our grim circumstances. I’m never given enough time to recover; our most important member is sick, and our healer’s been knocked clean out. Beneath Basch’s boots, a fine white powder crunches, sparkling in the dim light of the thick forest. I know for certain that it’s not snow, but I’m not sure what else it  _could_ be.

“We came to a gate that required Belias,” Balthier continues. “And so Basch summoned him up and it opened wide. It’s only a matter of time until we reach Giruvegan.”

“Finally,” I sigh.

“You’ve hardly done any work,” Balthier retorts. “I see no reason for you to complain.”

“I have plenty of reasons,” I huff, wincing when my healing wounds voice their own opinions.

“Perhaps if you weren’t wandering off on your own, you’d be fine.”

“Please,” Ashe speaks up, irritated by our constant bickering. “Let’s just focus on getting to Giruvegan.”

“Seems we’ll need to focus no longer,” Balthier replies, pushing a broad wall of tree leaves out of the way to reveal a towering temple sculpted from aged stone.

Deep green ivy curls up around the edges of the enormous structure, a glistening crystal path leading to the towering doors of its entrance. Gold, pointed stones mark out the way to the front, glowing and casting an eerie light on the heavy fog that seems to swallow us whole. The pirate stops, staring long and hard at our surroundings. Ashe steps forward, eyes trained on the temple ahead.

“On the farthest shores of the river of time, shrouded deep in the roiling Mist,” she murmurs. Vaan comes to a stop beside me and Basch; I slip out of the knight’s grasp, stumbling onto my own two feet with a wince.

“What is it, Fran?” Penelo asks quietly, her hand gently clutching Balthier’s vest from where she lays in his arms. I turn to the viera, watching her clawed hand close over her heart and her ears twitch irritably. Her crimson eyes turn toward the girl.

“The Mist runs thick here.”

“Like on the  _Leviathan?”_ Vaan asks, tilting his head to the side. Fran shakes her head, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

“Do not worry. I will behave myself,” she replies calmly. “The Mist here is… cooled.” Her eyes fall onto Balthier’s turned back, her face falling as she watches the young man. “I sense something like the shadow here.”

“Venat,” Balthier replies, his voice dry. Penelo stretches and he sets her down, though his eyes remain locked on the temple. The realization dawns on me suddenly.  _This is the place Cid lost himself once and for all… Where Dern and Balthier lost their father._ He shakes his head, turning to face us with a hasty mask to cover his bitter nostalgia. “It appears Cid has yet to arrive. We’ll lie in wait for him here.”

“So we’re not going inside?” Penelo asks, frowning in confusion. I watch curiously as the pirate’s eyes harden uncharacteristically.

“Not unless you want to end up twisted,” he replies sharply, scowling at the ruins to his left. “Like the old man.” Suddenly, he notices Ashe standing at the forefront of the path, her eyes locked on something ahead. Balthier steps closer to her, trying to see what she’s staring at so intently. “Something there?”

Something in the Mist shifts, but Ashe says nothing. She shows no sign of hearing Balthier’s voice. With no words passing her lips and no acknowledgment crossing her face, she takes one step forward. And then another. And another. The princess walks down the path alone, trapped in a sort of trance. Balthier frowns, stepping back.

“What is it?” Penelo whispers. I sigh.

“She can see him,” I reply, though I can’t see anything ahead of her. “Rasler.”

“Let’s follow her,” Vaan suggests, starting after the princess.

Hesitantly, everyone else trails behind. Balthier sighs, looking around once more before passing me an irate glance and following the boy. I shake my head, taking up the rear uneasily. Something about this place feels  _wrong._ The path is sturdy beneath my feet despite its age; the overpass of crystal and stone holds strong overhead. Penelo gasps, eyes filled with wonder at the temple’s striking beauty. All around us is a never-ending pool of cloudy gray water. Not a ripple crosses its glassy surface. Ahead, Ashe slows to a stop before a waystone. She stands still, staring at the rippling energy surrounding device as we all catch up. And then she touches it and a familiar tug pulls on our bodies until we’re teleported to another piece of Gurivegan’s exterior.

At the end of the path stands a figure frozen in crystal, enveloped in a thin layer of gleaming blues and grays. I stop walking, watching the princess blink out of her trance suddenly as if woken from a dream. Balthier eyes the creature at the end of the walkway, frowning when Vaan starts to run ahead.

“Wonder what froze  _this_ guy,” he calls, nodding for Penelo to follow. She looks back at us before sighing and cautiously hurrying after him.

Left with little choice, we head toward the hulking, headless figure. Just as Vaan crosses the threshold between two pillars, an ear-splitting crack echoes through the empty air. I start, pulling my spear free and waiting for the creature to move. Two more cracks emit from the frozen figure before a burst of crystal explodes from its body, sending sharp shards of blue flying in all directions. The beast raises a sword that’s the size of Vaan and growls, stomping its giant feet on the ground.

“Nice going, Vaan,” Balthier sighs, raising his gun and firing a shot.

Enraged, the beast shrieks and charges toward us, each thud of its feet sending a spiderweb of cracks across the crystal ground. I dive out of the way just in time, ignoring my aches and pains, and swing my spear out to the left, jabbing the monster in the back. Fran shoots a burst of fire, scorching its stitched flesh, and Vaan dives in with his dagger, slashing down the beast’s chest. Roaring, the monster raises its enormous sword and brings it crashing down. Basch hardly dodges the blow; shards of crystal fly in every direction as the path is shattered.

Though it’s sizeable, this foe is particularly unguarded and soft, making it all too easy for us to tear it to shreds quickly. Ashe delivers the final blow with her broadsword and the creature topples over, losing its balance. When it gets back to its feet, we’re prepared to end the fight, but instead of attacking, the monster plunges its sword into the ground and bows over it, freezing over just as it was when we found it. Before it appears another waystone.

“We’re heading inside, I presume?” Balthier asks, glancing over at Ashe tiredly. To be fair, she was only going to follow the pirate’s orders for so long. There’s something new that she’s set her eyes on. Not bothering to answer him, Ashe steps toward the stone and presses her slender fingers against its rough frame. We’re tugged into another location, inside the temple from the look of it.

The floor is a long, winding downward path carved from blue crystal. It hovers over a black abyss of nothingness. A symbol glimmers on the floor beneath the stone that summoned us here, traced with edges of green and gold. In the distance, something bright green glows. A dark wall of black stone and gold light surrounds us from a distance, a mere shadow to shelter us from the rest of the world. Fran is the first to step away from the waystone, her speckled ears twitching.

“Something up, Fran?” Balthier asks shortly, crossing his arms.

“The sensation has grown stronger,” the viera muses. Her voice remains calm and collected, much like the “cool” feeling she used to describe the atmosphere.

“Let us know if you’re gonna lose it,” I mutter, earning unreadable glances from both she and her partner. “What?”

“Since we’re already here, I suggest we get a move on,” Balthier says, ignoring me and turning to Ashe. His words are clearly bitter, filled with disapproval.

We start down the crystal path, Ashelia leading the way through multitudes of hulking behemoths and floating creatures of all types. Despite their strength, our resolve proves stronger, and each monster is defeated in mere seconds. The path winds downward in a set of squares, each level leading us closer to the spiraling wall of green light. We come to our first difficulty when a wall of glowing emblems blocks us from continuing downward. It matches the blockades in the Golmore Jungle.

“What do we do?” Penelo asks. Fran doesn’t reply, stepping forward with Lente’s Tear pressed into her palms. The barrier shudders, shattering into a million pieces moments later.

“ _That_ ,” Vaan replies, watching as Ashe continues her brisk pace without so much as a “thank you” for Fran.

“What’s her deal?” I mutter, coming up to Balthier’s side. He sighs.

“I believe she’s seen another vision of Rasler.”

“She lets those guide her frequently, it seems.”

“The Mist preys on those with a weak state of mind,” he replies grimly, glancing down at me. “Perhaps that’s why you stopped seeing  _Dern_.” Even now, the pseudonym sounds odd on his tongue.

“How did you know that I…?”

“Vaan,” he shrugs. “The boy can hardly keep a secret. Said he used to see his late brother in those images—until he decided that killing Basch over Vayne’s treachery wasn’t worth it.”

“I most certainly do  _not_ have any qualms about killing Vayne over his own treachery,” I huff. Balthier raises an eyebrow.

“I know it’s touchy, but  _you_ were the one who ended your partner.”

“I’m aware,” I reply curtly, scowling at him. “Perhaps I’ll have you sit and listen to what  _really_ happened someday.”

“I’m not sure how many more lies I can take from you,” he counters, though I can tell it’s his attempt at wry humor. Because of the present mood, it failed terribly. At least I can still catch on to his intention.

“Come on, I’m not  _that_ bad. I’ve told you the truth far more than you’ve told it to me.”

“Touché.” He fires a shot into the breast of a flying monkey, coming to a stop at the edge of the pathway. “Dead end?”

“No,” Fran replies, stepping past Ashe and reaching a foot out over the edge.

“Uh, Fran?” Vaan frowns, watching as she steps down onto nothing. As soon as she stands on nothing but thin air, a glowing green path of emblems shudders to life, one panel appearing after another until a full path leads down to the next section of spirals. The viera looks up at the thief, a glimmer in her crimson eyes.

“Don’t doubt my sense, remember?”

“Right,” he laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Won’t forget again.”

“You’re gonna get it next time,” Penelo teases, but her lighthearted comment is lost on the gravity of our endeavor and we force ourselves to continue down the everlasting corridors of monsters and mysterious creatures.

A particularly small flying monkey dives at us, swiping tiny claws at our hair and skin. I duck under it and jab with my spear. The creature dodges my attack easily, sending a fizzling green ball of light my way. I start to back out of the way when Vaan, as usual, finds himself in someone’s way and I trip, toppling us both over. The light slams into my back with the force of a gunshot, knocking the breath from my lungs.

I force myself off the sandy-haired thief, only to see him gasping for air as well. His face goes sheet white just as my head loses all sense of weight and I dizzily fall onto all fours. Basch grunts as the monkey bites into his shoulder; it’s killed by a blow from Ashe’s sword. Vaan’s loud retching overcomes the squawk of the next creature’s disdain. I swallow hard, fighting my own nausea as the world swirls in all directions.  _Why me? Why am ** **I**** always the helpless one? _I shudder, groaning when my stomach lurches and tightens. Vaan sits up only to double over and vomit again, choking.

“What’s wrong?” Penelo demands, falling to her knees at Vaan’s side and pressing a hand to his trembling shoulder. Her blue-gray eyes turn up to Fran, demanding an answer from the viera. “What did that thing do to him?”

“A peculiar poison,” Fran murmurs, eyeing the thief. Vaan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his face green, and moans, holding his head. I squeeze my eyes shut, a sharp pain shooting through my skull. One of my hands grips my churning stomach and the other holds me up with trembling, burning muscles. “It must be a magick-inflicted disease.”

“How do I help?” Penelo snaps impatiently, looking thoroughly offended when Vaan waves her away, slurring unintelligible words. My muscles suddenly snap tight, eliciting a sharp, pained cry from me as they all cramp at once, burning. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. “Shae, you too?!”

“I… am unsure,” Fran replies under her breath, glancing back to the others as they kill off a pair of behemoths. Basch slings the blood off the end of his blade and Ashe ends the life of the second beast, turning to see the four of us bunched up at the beginning of the new path.

“What’s wrong?” she asks sharply, sheathing her sword and watching Vaan dig his nails into his skin until blood trickles down his arms. She’s clearly disturbed, turning her eyes to Fran’s. “What happened?”

“They got some disease from that creature,” Penelo shakes her head, trying to pry Vaan’s hands away from his arms. He doesn’t react, constantly muttering nonsensical words under his breath as he rocks back and forth. I curl up tighter around my core, shuddering on my knees. My insides are on fire, my head is screaming, and my breaths are short and ragged. I can’t control anything. “Fran says it was magick, but I don’t know any spells to counteract this one. Cure spells don’t work.”

“Of course it was these two,” Balthier sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “It’s always these two.”

“You’re not—” I grit my teeth, cut off as burning acid stings my throat. I swallow hard, gagging. “Helping.”

“What potions do you have?” Ashe demands, turning to Basch. He shakes his head and another wave of tension hits my muscles. I hiss, babbling some plea for  _any_ sort of cure as my body endures the agonizing torture.

“Remedy, Fran?” Balthier asks, raising an eyebrow. Fran watches me and Vaan writhe a second longer before nodding, looking lost in thought.

The sky pirate opens the pouch on his hip, crouching beside Vaan and forcing the boy to look up just long enough to pour a glittering violet liquid into his mouth. The thief relaxes almost immediately, gulping down oxygen like he’d been drowning. Just as Balthier turns to hand me a potion, everything loosens up and I’m practically thrown forward as my side effects align with Vaan’s. Whatever it was that I last ate spews out onto the blue stone and a gleaming pair of metallic sandals. Choking and shaking, I jerk away from the slightest touch on my shoulder.

“… You owe me a new pair,” Balthier huffs, forcing me to lift my face. “Open up, Princess.” Too tired to argue, I roll my eyes and obey, grimacing at the cold, bitter potion that pours across my tongue. Moments after I swallow the concoction, all the pain subsides and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Gods above, what the ever-loving _fuck_ did that thing do to us?” I snap, pushing my hands onto Balthier’s lowered shoulders to get to my feet. He rolls his eyes and stands, scowling down at the bile staining his shoes.

“Some sort of odd sorcery. Can we continue?” Balthier replies dryly, arching an eyebrow. I sigh, motioning toward the end of the corridor.

“Let’s, Sir Leading Man.”

“That’s  _Mister_ Leading Man to you,” Balthier bites back, turning to continue our trek through this labyrinth.

“I feel like they’ve had this conversation before,” Penelo hisses to Vaan. I shrug, sheepishly eyeing my disgusting puddle of vomit.

“And what if we have? A good joke’s worth recycling a few times, at least.”

“Better give him another kiss or two, then,” Vaan snickers. I can feel my face turning a shade of red as  _Ashe_ laughs, Balthier tossing a playful wink over his shoulder.

“The only  _joke_ in that, Vaan, is that you think  _kissing_ is as far as it goes,” the sky pirate counters smugly.

“For the god’s—” I snap, cutting myself off to groan, rubbing my face with my hands. “Do you two know when to  _stop?”_

“ _Oh,_ she’s blushing!” Penelo giggles, skipping past me.

“Of course she is,” Balthier replies. “She’s  _remembering.”_

“I am  _not!”_ I practically shriek, hurtling a potion at him. It hits him square in the back, clattering to the floor.

“Must’ve been good then,” Vaan grins, nudging me. “Yeah? Princess Shae and Leading Man Balthier? Match made in heaven.”

“Alright, Vaan, let her be,” Ashe warns, smiling at our bickering. Vaan laughs long and loud.

“I can make it worse, watch.” He steps back from my side, dramatically rolling his head back on his shoulders and moaning loudly. “ _Balthier, oh my—ah! Harder!”_

“Vaan!” I shriek, shoving him so hard that he falls onto the ground. He’s laughing too hard to notice the impact; Ashe’s ears go pink. I have no words to express my rage, so I kick him in the ass, which only makes him laugh harder. Penelo snickers with a hand clapped over her mouth. Even Basch, though mildly disturbed, fights a smile.

“Oh c’mon,” Vaan rolls to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. “That was  _accurate._  I just know it. Right, Balthier?”

“Don’t you  _dare,”_ I snarl, glowering at the sky pirate’s back. He says nothing for a moment, but I know he’s smiling when his shoulders shake with a soft chuckle. He loops his thumbs through his beltloops and turns to face us, waiting for us to catch up as he speaks up.

“Mm… Almost there, Vaan. Just another ‘ _fuck’_ or two, and you’d be well on your way.”

“That’s  _it!”_ I lunge toward the pirate, missing by mere inches when he steps back. “I’ll cut your goddamn  _dick_ off, you  _ass!”_

“No you won’t,” Vaan points out. “You  _liked—”_

“Vaan,” Ashe interrupts, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “I think that’s enough for one day.”

“Psh, always killing all the fun,” Vaan teases, clasping his hands behind his head. I sulk at Balthier’s side, glaring at the boy.

“I hate you both,” I grumble, crossing my arms tightly.

“Do you now?” Balthier raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should learn to take a joke, hm?”

“Perhaps you should learn to keep your mouth shut,” I snap.

“I’ll consider it,” Balthier replies, glancing up at the ceiling. The others finally catch up, waiting to continue the walk. “Considered and denied.”

“I’ll never speak to either of you again, I swear,” I mutter, scowling at Vaan.

“Good luck with that,” Balthier shrugs, turning on his heels to lead the way.

“Won’t talk me either, huh?” Vaan grins, skipping past me.

He pulls out his dagger, charging toward another flying monkey creature. He reaches the monster before it can react, slicing into its flesh. As he stabs, he throws back his head and lets out a loud, high-pitched cry that sounds  _heinous._ I pummel him to the ground seconds later, dragged away by Basch before I really  _do_ mutilate the kid’s junk. I would do it, too. 


	45. The Occuria

The glowing path beneath our feet casts an eerie green glow across our faces. The darkness in the center of the temple now glitters with a constellation of some unseen substance, lighting up the dim, damp space surrounding us. After travelling in silence for so long, no one wants to break the quiet air of thoughtfulness as hundreds of thoughts swirl around each person's head. However, it doesn't seem to surprise anyone when Penelo finally speaks up, pacing toward the edge of the translucent walkway.

"I can't shake the feeling we're somewhere we're not meant to be," she says softly, swinging her arms at her sides as she gazes out at the glimmers of light in the near distance.

"Yeah," Vaan replies, coming up behind her. "It's exciting."

"Exciting?" Penelo repeats, frowning.

"You are not troubled by the unknown?" Basch asks, stepping closer to the two. "Who can say what lies ahead? We may encounter the very creators of nethicite."

"Yeah," Vaan sighs, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I don't know what we'll find."

" _But_ it's all part of the experience," I remind them, cocking my head to the side. "That's what makes it exciting. Where's the fun in knowing the ending to a tale when you've only just started it?"

"Exactly," Vaan nods. "I like it better that way."

"You're sounding more the sky pirate every day," Basch points out, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Isn't he?" Balthier raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "And here was Shae thinking I was a bad influence."

"You  _are,"_  I scoff, rolling my eyes. "The boy's been in more trouble the past few weeks than he ever would have had you never met him."

"As have you," Basch points out. Balthier practically snorts.

"She has a knack for finding it all on her own."

"Can we get off this bridge?" Penelo blurts, staring down at the cold abyss of nothing through the clear parts of the floor. "I feel like it's going to disappear any second."

We head down to the other side where, instead of meeting another lengthy stretch of blue crystal, we find ourselves on solid stone that's accented by a glowing green tile that leads to an enormous door. Left with little choice, we head toward the opening, pausing outside the doors. Penelo twists her hands around her staff nervously.

"What's in there?"

"Likely some formidable beast we need to defeat in order to continue," Balthier sighs, glancing at Vaan. "I trust that you can stay out of peoples' way?"

"I'm not  _that_ bad," Vaan huffs, drawing his dagger. "Let's  _go._ "

"Fine, fine," Balthier mutters, pushing the door open. We all tense, ready to face whatever may charge at us head on. But there's nothing. Only another path and a set of stairs—though I suppose we could attack those if we really felt like it.

"Huh." I tuck my spear away. "I guess life realized it was getting too predictable."

"Must have," Basch sighs. "More walking it is, then."

More walking it is, indeed. We follow a winding maze of roads, tracing along only the ways that glow with the green of the magick paths in hopes that they'll take us the right way. They have so far—or so we think. We have no real point of reference for where we're headed. I'm not even entirely sure why we're  _in_ here. If Ashe hadn't lost it for those few moments, we'd still be outside waiting for Cid and his lovely friend, Venat. It may have been a bit boring, but I'd choose that over dragging my battered body around this madhouse any day.

Finally, we come to another hovering green trail that leads toward the glimmering core at the center of the void that fills the center of the temple. We hurry onto it, rushing to find the end of the path. A large glowing circle of symbols waits ahead. Vaan heads onto it without hesitation, leaving us little choice but to follow.

The instant the last foot hits the platform, the trail we once walked dissipates one panel at a time. As the light steadily snuffs out, a shrieking roar pierces the air. A dragon-like lizard tumbles down from above, sliding across the disappearing tiles and nearly toppling over the edge just in front of it. Its jagged claws clack across the surface of the platform and it drags itself back up, screaming out a scratchy roar.

Vaan rushes forward to slash at the monster's dull scales, narrowly missing a sharpened claw. I raise my spear to block a strike from the beast's massive beak, stumbling back from the force of the blow. My stomach aches, screaming in protest from the slim seam that holds me shut. I wouldn't be in pain if Jonan hadn't been so hasty in his murder attempt. I jam my weapon underneath a jagged brown scale, piercing into the creature's flesh. It shrieks, lashing out at Basch.

Ashe rushes forward, ducking under a blow from a massive leathery wing, and stabs into the monster's soft underbelly. Crying out, the beast bellows out its anger and swings another wing out to the side. The appendage strikes an unsuspecting Penelo, sending her flying as though she hardly weights more than a chocobo feather. If Vaan hadn't lunged forward and caught her wrist, she'd be toppling down into an endless abyss. His feet, however, aren't the sturdiest supports, and I dive forward to catch him before he sends them both to their deaths. I grit my teeth, leaning back as I try to pull up the two dangling street urchins. Cursing under my breath, I give another sharp tug, earning a startled cry from Penelo as Vaan's grip begins to slip from the jolt.

"Need a hand?"

Without waiting for an answer, Fran takes hold of Vaan's arm and the two of us drag the thief and his friend back onto the platform. I wheeze a sigh of relief, turning back to see Basch's sword in the dragon-bird's throat, black blood spilling out onto the ground. The creature gargles out a final, weak growl before collapsing onto its sliced stomach. Dark eyes roll back into its skull and Balthier frowns in disdain, adjusting the cuffs of his white sleeves.

"That was a close one," Penelo gasps out, doubled over.

"Yeah," Vaan replies, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, Shae."

"Thank Fran," I shake my head and nod toward the viera. "She's the reason you're here right now."

"Thanks to  _both_ of you," Penelo smiles, her kind eyes flickering between me and Fran. I glance up at Balthier's partner once more. She arches a white eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" I demand, assuming this is about Balthier  _again_. "I did as you said, alright? It's all evened out for the better."

"Yes, it has," Fran says simply, sounding less annoyed than I thought she might. "For now."

"Gods, I  _hate_ foreshadowing," I sigh, jumping when a rumble shakes the ground. A waystone rises from beneath the floor, glinting in the light cast from the ground.

"Full speed ahead, I suppose," Balthier sighs, waiting for us to gather around before touching the smooth surface of the stone. In a flash, we're transported to a tunnel of golden walls and stone gates. At least, some of us were. I frown, turning to see that only Ashe and Vaan are with me.

"What happened?" I ask, looking around the enormous cavern.

"No idea," Vaan huffs. "It looks like there are more of those green paths over there. The others could have been taken to other places."

"I hope no one was sent alone," Ashe sighs, shaking her head. "There are far too many dangers in this place."

"You're the one who decided we were going," I remind her.  _This is hopeless._ "I have no idea which way to go. This place could be  _huge."_

"Guess we just gotta pick a path and go," Vaan mutters, eyeing each direction in hopes of spotting a clue. They look identical.

"What do you think?" I ask Ashe, crossing my arms. "Are your Dalmascan princess senses tingling?"

"What does that mean?" Ashe frowns, glancing at me before stepping up to the left path. "Let's go this way."

"So, they  _were_ ," I murmur, earning a snicker from Vaan. "Shae was right yet again."

"As I recall, you've been  _very_ wrong several times," Ashe replies, stepping onto the glowing gold path and turning to look at me over her shoulder. "It seems you were wrong about Balthier, as well."

"Is that the only gossip you guys have to talk about?" I scoff. "It's all I hear about lately." Suddenly, I feel a spark of irritation. Not because of their incessant teasing, but because I know just how short-lived it will be. At the end of it all, they'll have nothing left to speak with me about. "If you want my honest opinion, it's a fling. A bit of entertainment for the road. We're not  _honestly_ expecting anything to last on either end." I shrug, tightening the laced strings holding the top of my shirt together. "Sorry to rain on your parade—just thought I'd fill you in."

"So you're using him?" Ashe half demands, immediately looking irate.

"Not at all," I shake my head. "Nor do I think he's using me. It's... difficult to explain." Huffing, I walk past her, eyes dead ahead on the next platform. "I just know it won't last; these sorts of things never survive true tribulation."

"What about you and Dern? You guys were in love, right?" Vaan asks. I snort.

"Yes, we were. But that was entirely different. Dern saved my life, set me free, and proved to me that I was  _worth_ something. Not only did I live with the man for six years, but he taught me everything I know. Balthier's provided some much-needed company and a few pick-me-ups—nothing more."

"He was the only one to go after you when you throttled Ashe and told us who you really were," Vaan points out. "Besides, he makes you laugh."

" _And_?" I fire back defensively. My head and my heart are screaming two garbled feelings at the same time, one wailing that I'm right and the other crying out that I'm mistaken. " _You_ make me laugh. Basch makes me laugh. I'm not saying I'm ungrateful; I'm merely saying that we should all enjoy it while it lasts and then  _not_ be utterly destroyed when everything moves on."

"How do you know it will?" the boy challenges.

"Because," I snap, resisting the urge to punch him in the gut when he pulls on the end of my braid. "Everything's always moving and everyone's always changing."

"What's your point?" Ashe speaks up. "Are you saying that if Dern was alive, you would still be together?"

"We probably would be," I shrug, my heart panging with longing. "He was the best example of a perfect man... Not only that, but I wouldn't be  _here._ Before I... Before he passed, my entire world consisted of he, Jonan, and Larsa—everyone else was the enemy that laid on the ground helplessly while we flew through the sky, untouchable. Our motivation was finding the treasure of joy." Pausing, I wait for Ashe to choose a new path before continuing. "I suppose it was all blissful ignorance, but those were the best times of my life."

"So, you  _still_ love him?" Vaan prods, curious as ever. Ignoring the strain in my voice and the stings in my chest, I answer.

"I don't think I'll ever stop if I'm honest. It was hardly five months ago that he passed—still feels like yesterday." I bite down on the inside of my cheek, hating myself for the words that won't stop spilling out of my mouth. "I suppose it's lonely without him, no matter who else is around. I miss waking up to that smile and falling asleep with madhu buzzing through my veins. Nothing will ever quite match up to that. Not even Balthier."

"You've hardly given him a chance," Ashe points out. I swallow hard,  _very_ uncomfortable.  _Why can't I make up my mind? One night all I feel is blissful adoration and the next I contemplate all the ways this could end because it_ _will._ I frown, shaking my head.  _Since when do these matters take any sort of importance in the forefront of her mind?_

"Perhaps I'm scared to," I admit. "But it doesn't matter; I follow my gut and my gut tells me it'll end when this journey does—perhaps even before." I force a smile, glancing at the two confused, disappointed faces behind me. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer if we changed the subject. Or, better yet, if we didn't speak at all."

~|~|~|~|~

It takes several more waystones to regroup with everyone else, and by then, we're all either exhausted or on our last nerve. Or both. Before the platform glows a flaming ball of golden light. It's so bright that it nearly blinds me the first time I see it; I choose not to look at it directly from then on.

"I've never seen this much Mist," Penelo says, awed. She turns to Fran. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine," Fran nods. "Thank you."

"Is that nethicite?" Ashe asks, stepping closer to the fiery golden light.

"I wonder..." Fran muses, resting a hand on her hip. Ashe frowns, thinking.

"With that much nethicite in one's grasp..." her voice trails off and Fran nods.

"You could destroy all of Ivalice, if you wished it," the viera finishes, turning to the princess. Ashe's brow furrows and she looks to the floor.

"How convenient," I mutter, stepping forward and triggering the glowing path beneath the powerful substance. The others take my moving on as their cue to leave and they follow me down the ringing road, where we stop on a final platform. "Anyone plan on staying?"

"I don't know," Balthier replies, looking around at our bright surroundings. "The lighting's quite nice in here. I might hire a painter... Do you think they travel this far out?"

"... Anyone else? No? Okay." I press my hand to the waystone in the center of our platform and feel the powerful shift of energy suck us all into another location entirely.

The corridor is dark, lit only by the dull crimson glow that casts up from the glass cut into stone floor. Odd symbols are carved into the rock walls surrounding us, cast into eerie shadows by the light. Penelo shudders, tugging on a pigtail and stepping closer to Vaan, who looks about in wonder. There's a weird sensation in the air and I can't help but feel on edge. Before us, a door of stone waits to be triggered into opening. Behind us, a waystone stands as a beacon of hope should we feel we need to turn back.

Ashe steps forward, chin high, and the door slides upward, revealing a circle of mysterious black symbols over the scarlet floor. Left with little choice, we follow her into the center of the circle. Moments after I shudder in reaction to the creepy sight, a cloaked figure dives from the ceiling. Throwing its ornate cape back, it steps to the ground, face covered by a steel mask. The creature's body is bizarre, standing like a woman with two hooved feet and the body of a stallion on her back. Its whole body is comprised of steel, accented by a yellow and red cloak, and it wields bludgeons as both weapons and arms. This thing is an Esper if I've ever seen one.

Before we have much time to think, the creature rushes forward, hissing and swinging both arms at where we once stood. The party scatters; I pull my spear free, rolling under a kick from one of the bucking hooves. Quickly, the monster fires a barrage of red lights toward Penelo, each burst into flames the moment they hit the floor.

"It is weak to ice," Fran calls, firing an arrow that does little but bounce off the creature's skin. Lowering her weapon, Fran casts a blizzard spell and I follow, feeling the ball of chilled light leave my palm and soar toward the Esper. At the last second, the creature rears, swinging at Basch. Its cloak's red color ripples away, replaced by icy blue as our spells meet it, doing absolutely nothing.

"It can change its element," I sigh, pulling Vaan back sharply to prevent a nasty blow to the head. "Right now, it's weak to fire."

"As if we couldn't tell," Vaan huffs, pushing away from me and rushing back toward the creature.

I frown.  _Is he upset about what I said earlier?_ I shake my head, trying to shrug it off.  _It's real life. That's just the way it is... The way it has to be._ Basch swings his sword hard enough to cut through the Esper's skin and Vaan dives in to take his place, using his dagger to tear in a wider hole. The creature screams, thrashing and knocking the thief to the floor. I dash past, throwing the boy out of harm's way and ducking. When the beast lands on its feet, it's pierced by the upright blade of my spear instead of crushing me.

Enraged, the Esper shrieks and raises its arm, firing a bolt at Ashe. It pierces her arm, sparking with electricity that shocks her briefly. Basch, as defensive as ever, carves another hole and Fran and Balthier exploit it, sending arrows and bullets into the gash. Penelo heals Ashe and I roll under a bash, turning sharply to stab my spear into the beast's side. Leaking slick, black blood from its wounds, the creature cries out and lashes out once more.

I try to pull away, only to find that my spear won't release its hold on its side. _Shit_ _._ I tug harder, nearly thrown across the room when the Esper thrashes, screaming as violet sparks rise around it, glimmering in the darkness of the room. Pulling harder, I twist the spear around in hopes that it will come free. I'm merely tossed to the floor, still gripping my weapon. That, however, is not the case for very much longer. Hands grip my arms, dragging me away from the bucking Esper and toward the group of onlooking people. I look over my shoulder to see Balthier arching an eyebrow.

"I should've expected that I'd have to rescue you again at some point."

"I had it under control," I scoff.

"Did you?"

A spray of purple sparks redirects our attention to the Esper. Replaced by a gleaming purple gem, the Esper morphs into a golden symbol, spinning in the center of its capsule. The gem breaks away, shattering, and we're left with nothing but the symbol. This time, Vaan looks drawn to the Esper's power. He inches toward the symbol, pausing.

"What's it like?" he asks, looking back at Ashe and Basch. "To be tied to one of these things?"

"It unlocks new power within you," Ashe replies. "Power you never you knew you possessed. The Esper seems to be the key."

Vaan eyes the symbol a moment longer before touching it. It bursts into a thousand golden sparks and Vaan watches them all fall to the ground before turning back to face us.

"First strength, then healing," I list, crossing my arms and throwing a hip out to the side. "What now?"

"The power to defend," Vaan mutters, frowning. Lost in his head. I wonder what those creatures say when you accept their "key" for the first time. I wonder what it feels like to  _crave_ that key.

"We're nearly there," Balthier says, breaking the silence finally. "Wherever  _there_ is."

"How can you tell?" Ashe asks, eyeing the door at the other side of the circle.

" _That,"_ I answer, nodding toward the door. "It screams 'ending.'"

"Then let's end this," she replies, nodding firmly and heading to the door. Balthier shakes his head, sighing.

"She has no patience for consideration, does she?"

"Is this news to you?" I retort, stepping past him to follow the determined princess.

The next area is a simple square room with four steep stone staircases that lead down to a central floor space. In the very center is a blue waystone, its cool light contrasting the reds of the floor sharply. Ashe pauses at the waystone, waiting for us to join her. I step up to her side warily, unsure of what maze we'll be taken through next.  _Oh well. We've gotten this far, haven't we?_ Vaan is the last to wander up to the group, scratching the back of his neck silently as his eyes stare at some invisible source of interest in the recesses of his mind. Closing her eyes, Ashe takes a deep breath and presses her palm to the edge of the stone.

The bright white light that consumes us is slow to fade this time, and an eerie warmth envelops me, leaving my nerves on end. When the light does fade, I realize I'm balanced on a suspended stone platform high above the world and surrounded by smoky white clouds. Everyone else is behind me, searching for any signs of familiarity. Well, almost everyone. Before us, a short distance away, stands Ashe on a round platform of her own. Gleaming symbols illuminate the ground beneath her feet as she blinks, unsure of where she is or where we've gone.

"Where is everyone?" she gasps, her voice a soft echo through the sky.

"Here!" Vaan calls, waving his arms over his head. But as the princess swivels around to find any signs of life, she looks right through us. It's almost as if...

"She can't hear us," Balthier mutters. "It's as if we've ceased to exist, erased from the traces of time."

"That can't be good," I huff, standing on the edge of the platform to get a better look.

"Fear not, princess of Dalmasca," a garbled voice says, sounding completely and utterly otherworldly. It doesn't have an echo; rather, it's almost as though the words are behind spoken directly into everyone's ears at once. "We Occuria have chosen you, and you alone." In the blink of an eye, a rushing wind of colors comes rushing through the air, swarming Ashe until they break apart, whirling into the shapes of gray figures just like Venat.

"Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca," the Occuria before her speaks, though its voice carries evenly throughout all space. "We see your heart desires power, and power most holy shall we grant. Seek you the Sun-cryst, slumb'ring star. In tower on distant shore it dreams. The mother of all nethicite, the source of its unending power. The Dynast-King, his fallow shards, coarse trinkets cut from Sun-cryst's light." Ashe frowns, hands clutched together over her chest.

"Such power exists?" she asks, brow furrowed as though she can't quite understand the words flowing from the ethereal creature before her.

"In times that are long passed away, we thought to save this Ivalice, and chose Raithwall the Dynast-King. He took the sword and cut the Cryst. Three shards he took from its gilt grasp, and so became the Dynast-King. His words and deeds run through your veins." Ashe takes a deep breath, nodding slowly.

"That's why I was given it—the Sword of Kings."

"The treaty held with kings of old is but a mem'ry, cold and still. With you we now shall treat anew, to cut a run for hist'ry's flow." The air shimmers before the Occuria, revealing a glimmering blue blade. "Now take this sword, this Treaty-Blade. Occurian seal, mark of your words. Cut deep the Cryst and seize your shards." The blade lowers toward Ashe, proving to be well over half her size as it draws nearer and solidifies into a sword of gold. "Wield Dynast-King's power! Destroy Venat!"

"But Venat— Venat is an Occurian. A being like you."

"Venat is a  _heretic!"_ The Occuria cries, its bellow rushing wind across the clouds.

"Ah, so Venat's running just like the rest of us," Balthier muses.

"The nethicite is ours to give, to chosen bearer or to none. The heretic trespassed and set the rose of knowledge in Man's hand. With imitations they profane, it is anathema to us. We give you now the Stone and task. Administer judgment:  _destroy them all!"_

"Judgment?" Ashe repeats, confused yet again. Startled, she turns to face something no one can see except for her, and I'm willing to bet all I own that she's seeing Rasler. "Destroy them all? The Empire?"

"The humes ever skew hist'ry's weave. With haste they move through too-short lives. Driven to err by base desires, t'ward waste and wasting on they run. Undying, we Occuria light the path for wayward sons of Man. Oft did we pass judgment on them so that Ivalice might endure. Eternal, we are hist'ry's stewards, to set the course and keep it true. The chosen is our hand, our fist, to let live some and crush the rest."

"Princess, you have been chosen. Take revenge against those who stole your kingdom. Fulfill your role as savior. Attain to your birthright!"

Ashe reaches forward hesitantly and grasps the blade, only for a bright beam of light to blind us all over again. In a split second, both the Occuria and the fog dissipate, leaving nothing but a glimmering path to Ashelia and her platform behind. Vaan's the first to run, bolting across the walkway to meet the princess.

"Ashe!" Vaan skids to a stop before Ashe, scowling. "What's with these Occuria? What gives them the right to tell you what to do?"

"Will you take revenge as they ask?" Fran asks, stepping closer.

"Huh?" Ashe looks up sharply, snapping out of her daze.

"We heard the Occuria speak," Basch says, turning to Fran. "They may be gods, but we are the arbiters of our destiny." Firmly, he nods before looking at Ashe. "Your Highness, I am against this. The Empire must pay, but destruction?"

"Um..." Penelo speaks up, stepping up to my side. "Does anyone know what happened to Doctor Cid? Wasn't he saying he'd be here?"

"He should've arrived by now," Basch murmurs. I groan, rubbing my face with my hands in frustration.  _That damn fool..._

"And I should've realized by now," Balthier speaks up, sighing and resting his hands on his hips. "He's not coming. He laid out the bait, and we bit. Remember what he said?"

"He wanted Ashe to get another Stone," I reply, shaking my head. "He wanted that all along." Balthier nods, raising an eyebrow.

"Precisely. That's why he flaunted his nethicite and reeled us in with his stories about Giruvegan. All to bring Ashe to the Occuria."

"But wait," Penelo frowns. "If we got ahold of the nethicite, wouldn't that be bad for the Empire?"

"Maybe he wants to see what happens when foes with nethicite collide?" Balthier suggests. "That'd be just like  _Doctor_ Cid."

"I've... decided," Ashe says, looking. "I will search out the Sun-cryst."

Nodding, Basch turns on his heels and heads back the way we came, where a waystone now awaits us.  _These damned gods... Always toying with us._ Nearly everyone has left before Balthier speaks again.

"'History is built by our hands.' That's his favorite line," he mutters. Ashe pauses, holding the massive Treaty Blade. "He'd never stand by and watch the Occuria's Stones shape things." Balthier sighs, staring up at the statue from which the Occuria came. "So... he was talking to Venat all along. He wasn't mad at all then, was he?" he scoffs, turning on his heels and starting after the others.

"I doubt I'd go that far," I huff, tossing Ashe a glance before following the group to the waystone.

The waystone carries us back to the inner workings of the temple, as was predicted, and there Basch begins to voice his thoughts as Fran paces back and forth.

"In tower on distant shore dreams the Sun-cryst," he repeats, turning to the viera. "Do these words mean aught to you?" Fran shakes her head, eyes greeting the smooth floor.

"Didn't Reddas say he was going to follow some 'other course?' Maybe he found out something that can help."

"And how do you expect us to contact a man at sea?" I counter, placing my hands on my hips. Balthier shakes his head, pacing past the entire group.

"I'd rather stay out of  _that_ sky pirate's debt, thank you."

"What's wrong with Reddas?" Vaan demands, crossing his arms. "I mean, if you can't trust your own kind, who can you trust?"

"You're an expert on pirating now, are you?" Balthier replies sharply, eyeing Vaan.

"Well, I mean—"

"Oh dear," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We've failed miserably, Balthier."


	46. Time Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "Balthier's that annoying bitch at the sleepover who won't shut up when everyone else is trying to get their one hour of rest in"

_“So… How do we cross this time?” Vaan asks, pacing with his hands clasped behind his head._

_“Well, we don’t have a boat,” Penelo sighs, placing her hands on her hips and peering out at the waves lapping against the sand. Salty ocean water washes over the toes of my boots, leaving droplets behind with every receding wave._

_“And we don’t have an airship,” Balthier adds._

_Everyone’s eyes meet with one person or another, dread filling our gazes._

_“I guess we’re hoofin’ it,” I say finally, earning a loud, dramatic groan from Vaan._

When we finally step foot in Balfonheim, we practically drag ourselves off our chocobos and into the nearest tavern. Vaan and Balthier collapse into a booth, heads lolled back in exhaustion. Fran leans against a wall, eyeing the pair with Penelo slumped at her side. I stretch my arms, yawning, and plop down next to Basch at the bar.

Only Ashe remains standing, looking entirely unaffected by the journey. I’m not sure  _how;_  we spent  _days_ riding those cursed birds across all sorts of terrain—days fighting off monsters or to force our chocobos through shallow waters. At one point, Penelo’s bird was stuck in a pool of mud, the thick, sticky kind, and Basch and Balthier had to jump down and pull the poor creature out by its reigns. Riding around from one coast to another is one thing; fighting your way through  _Hell_ for days is another.

“Two,” Basch mutters when the bartender stops by us. Frowning, the burly man working the counter tugs at his beard and fetches us both a bottle of madhu.

“So, ya folks back here for Reddas?” he asks in a deep voice, leaning a forearm against the wooden counter. I half-heartedly knock my bottle against Basch’s before taking a long, slow drink. “What happened out there?”

“A lot of bullshit,” I grumble, eyeing Basch when he huffs out a weak laugh. “What, you don’t think so?”

“I agree, for the most part,” he shakes his head, turning his bottle of madhu around on the counter over and over again. “However, we learned much from the Occuria.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I scoff, brushing him off and glancing over at Vaan and Balthier. The former of the two has already passed out with his head on the table while the latter exchanges tired looks with his partner. “I suppose so. But we still had to haul  _ass_ to get here because Doctor Cid is  _still_ waiting for us to get a move on.”

“You’re rather crude for royalty,” Basch reminds me under his breath.

“The hell's an Occuria?” the burly bartender asks, arching an eyebrow.

“None of your business,” I huff. “Look, we’re just here to see Reddas. Any idea where he could be?”

“At this hour?” the man asks, glancing back at the crudely carved clock at the back of the tavern. “Likely passing time on his beaut of a ship.” He scratches his graying beard. “Then again, he may be resting.”

“Well, then he’ll have to wake up,” Balthier sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Her Majesty won’t be waiting any longer. Isn’t that right?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ashe replies, turning to the bartender. “He lives on his ship?”

“For the most part,” the man nods, grabbing a cloth off the counter and reaching for an empty tankard. “He’s always either there, or here. And I know he ain’t here, so…” His voice trails off and he shrugs, wiping down the tankard.

“Right,” Ashe nods, starting toward the door.

“You’re going alone?” Balthier asks, frowning. The princess pauses with a scowl.

“I understand your lack of trust in him, but Reddas has been a valuable ally. I doubt I’ll need protection, and I especially won’t need it from you.”

“Shit,” I huff, taking another drink. Basch stands, taking a deep breath.

“Highness, I’ll—”

“I will go,” Fran cuts the knight off, taking long strides toward Ashe. “You all rest.”

“Fran—”

“No,” Fran shakes her head. Her naturally cold expression is somewhat softer as her gaze meets Basch’s. “You are all tired. Get some rest and tomorrow we will resume.”

“Thank the gods,” I sigh, sliding off my chair. The bartender nods.

“I’m sure Reddas will cover your stay. Go ahead and take however many rooms you need.”

“Thank you,” Penelo breathes out, rubbing one of her eyes with the heel of her hand.

I don’t hesitate to head down the hall to the very same room I left Jonan in. My heart sinks when I find that the room is back in order, minus the faintest red stain on the floor from where he laid. Sighing, I walk to the wooden table at the righthand corner of the room and set my half-empty bottle of madhu down. My eyes trace the pattern of the floorboards absently as I try to gather my scattered thoughts. With heavy eyelids, I drag my feet toward the bed, only to jump when the door creaks open and a shadow’s cast across the room. I turn to see Balthier watching me with an eyebrow raised as he twists the switch on the wall to light the room’s lanterns.

“Gods, that scared me  _shitless_ _,”_ I breathe, closing my eyes to take a deep breath. With a smile tugging at my lips, I shake my head. “Funny, because I honestly don’t give a shit anymore.”

“About…?” Balthier presses, meandering closer with slow steps.

“Anything.” I look over his muddied, ruffled outfit with a sly smile. “ _Especially_  you.”

“Is that so? I suppose I spent all that time saving your life for nothing.”  _All that time? I ** **do**** believe we’re even._

“Oh, stop,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Don’t guilt me into loving you.” At this, the pirate pauses and my heart skips a beat.  _That came out wrong._  I speak quickly to recover before an awkward silence consumes us. “What’s that one condition called? Shockholm syndrome?”

“Stockholm syndrome,” Balthier corrects, cocking his head to the side. “That has nothing to do with guilt and I’m  _far_ from holding you hostage.”

“ _Actually_ ,” I tease, flashing a slight smile. “I think you are.”

“How’s that?” Balthier asks, resuming his spaced steps.

“Because,  _Leading Man,_ you’ve got my heart locked up,” I reply smoothly, reaching forward and dusting a bit of dirt off the sleeve of his shirt.

“I see… What’s the ransom?”

“Oh,” I laugh quietly, taking hold of his collar and jerking him closer. “Definitely something I can’t afford.”

“So you’d like for me to return it?” Balthier murmurs, a smug look crossing his face.

“That’s up to you, I suppose,” I shrug. “We  _could_ pretend it was a gift—just for you.”

“Hm.” Balthier gently tugs on a strand of curled hair the rests on my cheek, watching it bounce back into place with a light huff. “Well, the wrapping was disappointing, I must say.”

“The wrapping…?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, it came with all…” Balthier backs away a step, gesturing toward me. “ _This._ ”

“… Oh,  _shut it!”_ I snap, shoving him away with a huff. I reach for my madhu, sulking away to sit on the edge of the bed. “Why’re you here, anyway?”

“Why am I…? Perhaps I presumed too much,” Balthier mutters, raising an eyebrow at me. Rolling my eyes, I pat the mattress and wait for him to sit beside me before speaking.

“Too much, huh? That happen often?”

“It depends on the day,” Balthier replies, playing with the cuffs on his shirt. “And the lady,” he adds sheepishly. I roll my eyes, setting my madhu aside and crossing my legs.

“You have  _that_ many ladies, do you? How was riding with Vaan?”

“I may have quite a bit of bruising on my ribs,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. I laugh.

“He’s got a grip, doesn’t he?”

“I’ll say.” Balthier sighs, tracing a finger along the edge of his pointed sideburns. Rather, they  _used_ to be pointed. They’re looking rough these days. “I hate to ruin whatever mood it is that you’ve established, but…” He shakes his head, staring long and hard at the door. “What exactly happened to my brother, Shera?”

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” I huff, ignoring the pang resonating through my chest.  _He really does deserve to know…_

“It suits you,” he shrugs.

“No, it doesn’t,” I sigh. “But to answer your question… We were always on the run from Vayne.” I shrug, hugging my arms to my body. “One day, he sent a threatening letter and so, to protect me, Dern turned himself in. It gave me enough time to escape, but… I waited around for about a month before seeking him out.” I shake my head, taking in a shuddering breath and fixating my gaze on the blankets beneath me. “He was a wreck—mentally, physically—and Vayne was waiting there for me. That’s when he, y’know—”

“Carved the emblem?”

“Yes.  _That._ I took Dern and ran. We made it back to the ship and I hoped everything would be alright after he healed. I was wrong, I suppose. He healed physically, but emotionally… We were both hopeless. I was jumping at every shadow, paranoid that Vayne had returned to finish Dern off for good. And Dern… he hardly spoke. He wouldn’t listen to me, wouldn’t look at me. I was the source of his misery and his joy at the same time.” I shudder. “One night, I woke up and I couldn’t see anything but  _eyes_ all around us.  _Watching_ us. I thought I had to save him. I thought…” my voice catches and I shake my head.

“You thought it would be better that he die at your hands than in Vayne’s?”

“Exactly; I knew Vayne would’ve dragged it out until there was nothing to him but flesh and bones. I went into his desk and took his gun and…” I close my eyes, the pain still all too fresh.  _How could I? What right did I have?_ “He woke up—begged me to stop. Cried, even. I shot him twice in the head.” My nails dig into my arms, leaving red imprints.

“After that, I couldn’t breathe. I can’t remember how long I sat there in disbelief. Finally, I got up and buried him outside my ship. I tried to shoot myself, too, but Jonan stopped me. Put me back into reality. He cared for me until he was certain I wouldn’t take my life and then he destroyed the  _Castean_ and ran.” I huff out a sarcastic laugh. “I was still working to repair her when I ran into you, Fran, and Vaan. Funny how that all worked out, huh?”

“…” Balthier frowns, though he’s still looking at me. I tear my eyes away, looking around the room uncomfortably.

“That’s… the first time I’ve ever really admitted to all that.”

“I could tell.” Balthier shifts. “You sounded guilty.”

“Of course I sounded guilty,” I defend. “I’d sound guilty no matter how many times I told that story.”

“So you think,” Balthier replies, but he doesn’t sound snarky or proud. Merely lost in thought. “Hard to believe the reason I haven’t seen him is simply because he’s dead, not because he’s still hiding away.”

“Hard to believe I’m the one who did it.”

“… That too.”

“… Are you mad?”

I almost wish I could take the words back. I sounded scared, like a child who knows she’s done something wrong. Who knows she might lose someone because of what she did so thoughtlessly. Who knows she’ll only ever know fear. Balthier, never ignorant, picks up on this almost immediately, raising an eyebrow when my eyes meet his for half a second before falling to the floor again.

“What happened to your spirit, hm?” he asks, resting a hand on my leg. “It just blew away with the wind?”

“Something like that,” I reply wryly, though it’s half-hearted. Shaking his head, Balthier huffs out a laugh.

“You need sleep, Princess.”

“I told you not to call me that,  _Ffamran._ ”

“I don’t recall hearing that,” he replies, arching an eyebrow. There’s a sly grin on his face that I wish I could slap right off.

“Get out,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“Not particularly,” he mutters, looking around the room. The silence makes me uncomfortable and I struggle to bite back a question as it slips out.  _What’s wrong with me tonight?_

“Do you regret it?” I blurt, cringing when he frowns at me and I realize I’ll have to clarify. There’s no saying “nevermind” now. “Leaving Dern?”

“It’s… not quite as easy as regret,” he replies, hesitant to speak for once. “I wasn’t lying when I said that Fran and I were caught up in our own situations—”

“But he’s still your brother.”

“Precisely.” Balthier sighs, staring down at his lap. “And, despite our disputes, he was the only person who truly believed we could escape from our former lives.”

“He always was an optimist,” I mutter, hugging my knees to my chest and lifting my madhu off the floor. “Was that your favorite part of him?”

“Pardon?”

“Y’know, his character. His personality. I loved the determination,” I shrug. “How he always told me it would be okay—and he was right until I ruined it all in the end. He made sure of it.”

“You stole my answer, then,” Balthier scoffs, snatching the green bottle from my hand easily and taking a long, slow drink. I roll my eyes, but it’s halfhearted. Finally, he hands it back, raising an eyebrow when he realizes I still have questions.

“… Your fa— _Dr. Cid_ mentioned that Dern sent letters talking about us. Did he…?”

“Yes, I received them as well,” Balthier replies under his breath. I smile at the irritation in his tone. “I kept them in a pile in the back of my ship because, ridiculously enough, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out. I did eventually read a number of them out of mere curiosity.”

“So, you knew I who I was from the beginning, then?” I inquire, setting the madhu on the floor to my left.

“No,” Balthier shakes his head, fingers tracing the stitched patterns on the blankets. “I knew it was odd that you carried his spear. But I couldn’t understand why the Imperials treated you the same as me and Vaan if you were affiliated with them, so I chalked it up to theft.” I jump when he falls backward onto the mattress, startled for absolutely no reason. “I got a bad taste in my mouth the moment you mentioned having a partner who wasn’t around any longer… Not to mention Jonan. Adamar never called the boy by name, but he wrote about a young pirate he wished he could change for the better—if not just to save you from what was required.”

“It was when Larsa mentioned him by name.”

“Yes. It all pieced together, for the most part.”

“You’re a damn good actor, Ffamran, I’ll give you that,” I huff, patting his stomach. He frowns, tensing when my hand hits his stiff vest rather hard. “I suppose now it makes sense that you tried to stop me when I threw my identity out as if it didn’t matter.”

“ _Or_ it could have been because you  _throttled_ the future ruler of Dalmasca,” he retorts, catching my wrist when I move to hit him again. “Now, since we’re apparently playing a game of questions, I think it should be my turn.”

“Are we?” I tease, grinning sleepily.

“Aren’t we?” Balthier arches an eyebrow. “I’ll keep it easy. What’s your favorite part of  _me_ , Shera?”

“Oh, now you’re jealous of your big brother?” I laugh, turning over to lay on my stomach beside him. “I don’t know, Ffamran. I can easily list off things I  _don’t_ like.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely,” I snicker. “First of all,  _this,”_ I say, poking at his stubbly cheek. He huffs.

“I haven’t exactly had access to a razor, now have I?”

“And yet Basch’s beard looks just fine,” I tease. “What else? You’re a pompous prick—Leading Man, my ass. Just because you  _can_ take charge doesn’t mean you  _should,_ Mr. Hypocritical Runaway.”

“That one hurt. However,” Balthier adds, “if anyone is a hypocritical runaway, it’s you, dearest.”

“Your own moogle crew doesn’t know how to properly send your own ship to your location,” I scoff.

“You’re a sky pirate without a ship.”

“You’re so vain that you chose a partner whose backstory sounds almost exactly like yours.”

“Even my  _Shera’s_ backstory is painful similar,” he muses, lips twisting into a wry smile when my nose crinkles.

“ _Your_ Shera? Gods, you really are selfish.”

“And yet there you were mere days ago,  _demanding_ that I let you keep me as your own.”

“I think you misunderstood that entire scenario,” I huff, glaring at the wall when I feel my face growing hotter. “I only  _demanded_  that you don’t waste my time.”

“I’ll give you that, Princess. As a man living by the words of the infamous wise man  _Jules,_ I believe the only thing worth more than time is information.”

“Well, is there anything else you’d like to know?” I murmur, lifting one of his hands to examine a scrape across the back of a knuckle.

“If, perhaps, we could go to sleep,” he replies.

“… I’m too tired to move.”

“Shera—”

“Fine. I’ll let you stay if you swear you’ll stop calling me that.”

“What if I swear to call you that  _less?_ ”

“Good enough for me,” I yawn, sitting up and stretching my arms over my head. Balthier pushes himself to his feet, nearly kicking over the bottle I set on the floor. Upon seeing me sleepily watching him unclasp the back of his vest, he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” I sigh, my eyelids heavy. “I’m  _tired.”_

“Finally,” he mutters, setting his vest on a nearby wooden chair. He pauses, glancing back at me. “How  _undressed_ am I allowed to be, for lack of a better word?”

“However you’re comfortable,” I shrug, kicking my boots off. Balthier chuckles, shaking his head and unbuttoning his cuffs.

“I promise you  _don’t_ want that, Princess.”

“Why’s that, Ffamran?” I ask, fighting a grin at his scowl.

“Part of the deal is that you have you stop calling me that.”

“Fine, fine. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll let you think a moment longer,” he replies simply. I frown, watching him play with his puffy-sleeved shirt a moment longer before it clicks.

“Gods, you’re not one of those  _barbarians_ who sleeps naked, are you?”

“I wouldn’t call myself  _that,”_ Balthier replies, laughing softly. “But I suppose so, yes.”

“How did I not realize this sooner,” I groan, rubbing my face. He shrugs.

“Because, out of courtesy, I didn’t do such a thing if the…  _situation_ didn’t call for it.”

“What the…?” I roll my eyes. 

“You’re just as bad as Vaan.”

“I’m not  _that_ bad.”

“Oh, but you are,” he mutters, kicking off his shoes and killing the light in the lantern before heading back toward the bed. All that’s left to light the small inn room is the night sky through the closed window across the room.

“This thing’s small,” I point out, suddenly noticing how narrow the mattress is. It seemed so much bigger when we were halfway off and turned in the wrong direction mere minutes before.

“Oh dear,” Balthier replies, crossing his arms. “How _ever_  shall we fit?”

“I don’t want to touch you, you nudist,” I protest, sticking my tongue out. His only response is the twitch of a brow. Finally, he speaks.

“I’m clothed now, am I not? It didn’t seem to bother you much at other more  _pivotal_ moments."

“For f—” I huff, tugging the covers up and burying myself underneath them, back turned to Balthier. With a mutter of “Melodramatic,” Balthier pushes me over and takes up whatever space is left over. I flinch when his hand brushes my hip. “ _Leave me alone,”_  I whine into the pillow.

“I don’t recall that being part of our agreement,” he teases, rolling over. I huff, turning to scowl at his wry grin.

“It is now. ‘Leave Shera alone when she’s trying to sleep.’”

“Shera, hm?”

“Dammit, Balthier,” I snap, lightly punching his chest. “Now you’ve got me saying it. Just shut up already.”

“I’ve got you saying it because it’s  _right._ ”

“ _Balthier—”_

“Shera—”

“For  _fuck_ _'s_ sake!” I hit him again out of exasperation, earning a chuckle.

“Perhaps if you were a bit  _kinder_ to me—”

“What, you’re fragile now? Want me to kiss it better?” I scoff. He shrugs.

“That doesn’t sound like the worst option.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I roll my eyes. Shaking his head, Balthier shuts his eyes and relaxes with a sigh.

“I know it’s not.”

“Then shut the hell up,” I mutter, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning onto my other side and letting my exhausted eyes to close. An arm pulls my back closer to his chest in a loose grip that I don’t resist.

“Goodnight, Shae.”

“Hn.”


	47. Finding Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, I made references of Shae, Dern, and Jonan using a character creator and uploaded them to my deviantart here: https://www.deviantart.com/autumn810

**HELLO. I FOUND A WEBSITE FOR CREATING CHARACTERS, SO HERE'S A LOVELY DEPICTION OF SHAE ALL THE WAY NEAR THE END OF THE BOOK :D**

"Ships in the water! Sending fishing dories if need be, I care not. Glossair engines are as good to us as sky to a fish. Leave what boats have foundered. I need souls saved, not driftwood!" I step to the side to allow Reddas's rushing pirates pass by as he barks commands. Upon seeing our group approach, he sighs, straightening. "Our armada ran afoul of bad water near the Ridorana Cataract. All engines stopped asudden, becalmed. Trouble with a Mist thick as death, it seems." Reddas shakes his head, retreating to his desk as we near him. "Those seas are jagd. I expected airship trouble, not a fleet foundering midst the waves." Rubbing his bald head, he kicks his feet up on the table before him. "Tell me what happened at Giruvegan. From the lay of your eyes and the desperation in your tone last night, Highness, I measure all did not go well."

Ashe steps forth, shoulders slumped with the weight of a thousand worlds. However, she's stubborn as ever, chin lifted high and steps long and confident.

"Cid was false—as you feared," Ashe replies firmly. "But we may have caught a glimpse of his true intent. We may now know what it is that Cid searches for." Carefully, she pieces the story of the Occuria and their words together for him, with the occasional remark from Vaan. The pirate hums, putting his feet on the ground and slouching his seat.

"So the deifacted nethicite was only a fragment? And these Occuria—I know not, and care to know even less."

"If we strike the Sun-cryst with the Sword of Kings, no new Stone may be born," Fran suggests, cocking her head to the side. "We say the Sun-cryst is the source of all nethicite's power. If we break that, the Dusk Shard may find its power drained." She rests a hand on her hip, sighing. "As for the manufacted nethicite, who can say?"

"There is another way," Balthier adds, staring defiantly at Reddas. "We use the Treaty-Blade to cut a new Stone from the Cryst, use that to fight the Dusk Shard and the manufacted stones."

"Would you like the know the best use of nethicite?" Reddas retorts, straightening in his seat and narrowing his eyes on the sky pirate.

"Do enlighten us," I scoff half-heartedly, arms crossed.

"Will or nill, I'll tell you," he replies, waving his hand dramatically. "You pick it up, and throw it away." Vaan sighs, turning to a rather unamused Balthier.

"Either way, we have to find this Sun-cryst first, right? Don't we?" The boy faces me sharply, excited as he recalls our directions. "Across the sea... In a tower on a distant shore... Reddas?"

"Familiar words, Vaan," Reddas muses. "I saw something of the sort written in some documents I chanced upon during my visit to Draklor. The Naldoan Sea, the Ridorana Cataract, and the Pharos lighthouse. I sent my fleet to fish out the truth behind those words... and caught trouble."

"Then the proof is ours," Basch replies. "This lighthouse on the Naldoan Sea is the tower on the distant shore. The strong Mist the becalmed your ships is a grimmer—yet clearer—sign than any we might hope for. The Sun-cryst is there."

"All well and good," Balthier huffs, pushing off the edge of the cabin he's been slumped against. "But how do we get there? Those seas are in jagd, as I recall."

"Try putting this one in your ship. 'Tis a skystone made to resist jagd." Reddas stands, tossing a small stone to Balthier, who catches it easily, frowning. My stomach twists and Balthier scowls.

"More spoils from the Draklor labs, is it? This has Adamar written all over it."

"Yeah, Shae did say her partner invented something like that a long time ago, didn't she?" Vaan recalls.

"Yes, I did," I frown, stepping forward to eye the stone. "Reddas, where did you get this?"

"That is of no importance," Reddas brushes me off.

"Why not use it yourself?" Balthier demands.

"That's just the thing. My ship's a Bhujerban model—it will not work. But it should fit the  _Strahl,_ and then she'll fly in jagd." Reddas turns to Ashe. "My lady, I would accompany Your Highness, if you do not object."

"I am in your care," Ashe nods, despite Balthier's disapproving scowl. "But, tell me one thing: why do so much for us?" Without a second thought, Reddas replies.

"The Nabudis Deadlands."

"Nabudis... was your home?"

"No, but a memory forever burned in my heart." Reddas hangs his head, shame clear in his eyes as he stares at the wooden planks of his rocking ship. Balthier catches my eye in the slightest glimpse and turns in silence, leaving. I sigh, shaking my head and step forward.

"Well, whatever it is that's burned that place into your heart, I wish it well in its attempt to construct a stronger man."

"As do I, if that is grief's true intention," Reddas replies in a low voice, straightening. "Let's be off, then."

~|~|~|~|~

The familiar rumble of the  _Strahl's_ engines vibrates through the soles of my boots as I take a seat behind Fran. Vaan sits beside me, watching the two pirates prepare the airship for flight with fascination. Reddas sits behind Balthier, staring out the front window with a glint in his eye. With a sudden jerk, the ship lurches from the aerodrome to the sky, rattling her way into the clouds.

"It seems Nono slacked on these last few repairs," Balthier mutters, gripping the controls to the ship and pulling sharply. Fran flashes a scowl, brow furrowed.

"He had plenty of time, didn't he?" I ask, raising my voice to be heard over the ship's lively roar.

"Far too much time, if you ask me," he replies. The  _Strahl_ slows and Balthier huffs, looking thoroughly irritated.

"It will take twice as long at this speed," Fran points out, frowning when he stands and rubs his face tiredly.

"I'm aware, Fran," the young man snaps. His partner turns her eyes back to the control panel. "There must be something wrong with an engine."

"Perhaps a skystone was knocked out of place?" I suggest, leaping to my feet and nearly toppling over when the ship shudders. "Stay here and help Fran; I'll go check it out."

"Look, Shae, I know you're a genius when it comes to machinery, but the  _Strahl's_ a bit different than the Imperial tin cans you've manned," Balthier retorts, brushing past me. Fran shakes her head, refusing to look back at me when she speaks.

"I'll be alright, Shae."

"Then at least show Vaan the ropes," I call over my shoulder, following the irate pirate into the belly of the airship—a piece I've never seen before. Balthier's stride is long and quick and hard to keep pace with. I duck away from a hot pipe, cringing when a shot of steam hisses by my head.  _What sort of scrap-heap is this?_ "What's with the renovations?"

"I was remodeling her when I got caught up in the midst of this," Balthier replies stiffly, stopping abruptly before a tangle of pipes, rotating gears, puffing steam, and trembling motors. With a deep-set frown, he rests on hand on his hip and scratches at his face with the other, eyes narrowed. "And now Nono's gone and messed her all up in the process of putting her back together. He's about to get a firm talking to, that's for sure."

"She's a beaut," I laugh lightly, tapping a hot pipe and shuffling over to his side to peer into the set of gears spinning before him. "But only externally, I suppose."

"Is that so? How's the  _Castean_ been, then, Darling?"

"Oh, shut it, Bunansa," I scoff, leaning over the wobbling mechanics. "Actually, I was hoping you might help me with that after all this. You know, the design process and all." _Shit_ _... Keeping him around even after you friendzone him, Shera? What sort of plan is this?_ I roll up my sleeves, taking a deep breath of the nostalgic scent of an engine room, and cautiously reach toward the glint in the corner of the set of pistons to my right.

"Really?" Balthier replies dryly, arching an eyebrow. "From what I've heard, you won't be needing any help with  _design_ —that's more your specialty, isn't it?" I fight a cringe, hesitating when I feel the heat radiating off the rotating steel.  _How do I tell him it's all an excuse to keep him around a bit longer?_ "I'll see what Fran and I are up once we're through with Vayne. How's that?"

"Deal," I breathe out, pulling the small object free with a quick flick of my wrist. Balthier frowns, stepping closer to see the cause of all his worries as I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I can blame my reddened face on the heat. The gears and pistons right themselves and the  _Strahl's_ shudders turn to contented purrs.

"A bracelet?" Balthier scoffs, plunking the bent, twisted band of silver from my fingers. I laugh, leaning back against a clear portion of the wall. "That was all?"

"Y'know, I once had to land the  _Castean_ for the very same problem. Except it was my own bracelet, I suppose. I don't have the privilege of a moogle crew." Shaking my head, I offer a slight smile. "And Dern stood around being useless just like you did."

"Useless?" Balthier raises an eyebrow, lowering the bracelet. "Did you expect me to help somehow? I figured I would be in the way."

"Funny that you told me off for trying to help mere minutes ago, and yet here I am solving all your problems," I reply smugly.

"You cause more than you solve," the pirate retorts, tucking the scrap metal away. "I'll return this to the crew later, I suppose."

"What a good captain," I snort. "Why are you so  _sweaty_?"

"It's this blasted heat," Balthier huffs, shaking his head. An unreadable expression flickers across his face and he shakes his head, fighting a slight smile as he reaches over to take hold of my braid. "Though, I suppose I could find another reason."

"Yeah?" I reply, grinning and reaching forward to smooth his vest. "What would that be, Leading Man?"

"Must I spell everything out?" he mutters, rolling his eyes in mock irritation, though he looks quite happy when I close the gap between us, fingers twisted in the loose fabric of his white shirt. Stepping forward, Balthier reaches upward with one arm to find some sort of stability, never once pulling away. Goosebumps break out across my skin and I gingerly brush my fingers through his cropped hair, wondering if—

" _Shit_ _!"_ Balthier hisses, jerking away and waving his hand with a wince.

"What's wrong?" I frown, staring down at his palm when he quits his flailing. His skin is an angry red, burnt by the heated metal of a pipe he grabbed blindly. "Damn, Balthier, how'd you pull that one off?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he mutters, shaking his head. After a moment, he straightens, glancing down at me. "I suppose we should get back to the others before they come looking."

"That'd be the best course of action," I agree, crossing my arms. Balthier chuckles, pressing a final kiss to my lips before leading the way out.

"I suppose we'll have to keep that on pause until next time, Shera."

"Not if you can't get my name right, you ass."

"Right, right. My apologies, Highness."

" _Balthier._ "

We clear the heated room and head back to the cockpit, red-faced, sweaty, and quiet. Vaan leaves Balthier's seat to sit beside me again, raising an eyebrow when he looks between the two of us.

"You guys find the problem?"

"Yeah, I did," I nod, wiping the sweat off my face. "Didn't take too long."

"Yeah?"

"... Yes?"

"Why'd it take so long for you guys to come back? Sounds like you screwed a lot more than an engine."

"Vaan," I groan, slouching in my seat and hitting the boy's shoulder when he laughs.

"What? I'm just saying."

" _Vaan,_ if you don't—"

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't assume such things, Vaan," Balthier cuts in, glancing over at the boy. "I would never dare to make my dear  _Strahl_ jealous."

" _Okay,"_ I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Why don't you show the kid your hand, then?"

"Wait, what happened...?" Penelo trails off, face tinting pink. Ashe shakes her head as Reddas chuckles beside her.

"Why am I not surprised in the least?" the sea pirate asks, laughing. "Young love will thrive in the oddest places."

"Okay, old man," I scoff. "Calm down."

"I'm quite alright, thank you," Balthier sniffs. "Now, sit down properly. We're picking up speed."

~|~|~|~|~

"Whoa," Vaan gushes, gaping up at the sandy stone tower that rises high over the rest of this miniscule island far off the coast of Balfonheim. I nearly lose my balance when I drop onto the shore, brushing my hair from eyes and watching the waves crash as the wind picks up.

"My apologies," Balthier says over the deafening sound of rushing water coming from the falls pouring over the edge of the cliff this place rests on, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves. "I couldn't land us any closer."

"It's close enough for me," Vaan replies, joining Basch and Penelo on the edge of the cliff to take in the view.

"A tower on distant shore," Fran murmurs, eyeing the enormous structure as she drives the  _Strahl's_ anchor into the ground. "And about its peak, a piercing Mist."

"And in that Mist, the Sun-cryst waits," Ashe finishes, hands clutched over her chest.

"My Lady," Reddas cuts in. "Your words still sound of doubt. Pray you reach your answer, ere we the Sun-cryst."

"And?" Ashe turns to face him, defiance tracing her frown. "Should I choose revenge, what then?"

"Then your woe shall be your own," the pirate replies simply, walking past her to approach the entrance. With that, the others follow him in silence. I head toward Vaan, hoping to ask a simple, biting question. The authority in Balthier's voice when he calls the boy over lets the question slip my mind and I frown, watching Vaan head toward the waiting pirate.

"Yeah?" the thief asks. Balthier puts his thumbs through the belt loops in his pants and looks out at the rippling sea.

"If something untoward should happen to me, you're taking the  _Strahl._ " Balthier turns on his heels and starts to follow the rest of the party. I shake my head, chasing after the two.  _What is he on about?_

"Untoward?" Vaan repeats. "What's this about?"

"I am the leading man," Balthier responds simply. "Might need to do something heroic. Don't worry, I'll teach you what Fran hasn't yet." Vaan frowns at me, shrugging. I catch up to his side, anxiously twisting the metal of my gauntlet.

"What do you mean by  _heroic?"_

"Now, Shera, it's not ladylike to eavesdrop," comes my mocking reply. And that's that; the pirate takes long strides to rejoin the group, leaving us behind.

"Damn that man," I hiss under my breath. Vaan scratches the back of his head.

"What do you think he's worried about facing? Would something so bad really happen?"

"He's afraid of facing himself," I scoff, crossing my arms. "I doubt anything will happen, Vaan, he's just taking precautions because he's worried about his father."

"I thought he hated Doctor Cid."

"He does. He's worried about what his old man might pull."

"Oh. Okay." Vaan's silent for a minute longer as we pass into the wall of ancient stone buildings that stand empty at the foot of the tower. Rubble litters the sandy paths that but through to the huge staircase that heads up to the base of the tower and bits of pottery and bones stick up from between waves of the grains. Penelo walks alongside Fran and Ashe, flashing a grin when she catches my eye. "Why do you think... he'd give the  _Strahl_ to me?"

"You're a young man with big aspirations of sky pirating," I shrug. "You need to start somewhere."

"Yeah, but I thought you two were close?"

"... Not exactly. Besides, I have the  _Castean._ Once we're through with all this, I'll start piecing her back together. I could never leave Dern's masterpiece to rust away in the desert."

"I guess not," Vaan sighs, kicking a spray of sand into the air and watching it fall. "I still don't get it, y'know? Are you guys just toying with each other or what?"

"Not everything is so clear-cut," I laugh gently, ruffling his hair. "Especially when it comes to people. I hate to admit it, but Balthier's hard to read. I'm sure he merely sees me as a bit of fun in the boring patches, so I'm doing well to keep my reservations."

"I think the problem is that you both think like that," Vaan scoffs, beaming and shoving my hand away. "Even the leading man's scared of heartbreak, yeah?"

"Perhaps," I shake my head.  _In a world where that man could have anything if he said pretty please? I honestly doubt it._


	48. The Sun-Cryst

I sling the greenish blood from the tip of my spear to the sandstone beneath my feet, grimacing at the scent of rotting flesh that seeps from the crumpled creature before me. Vaan hisses as Penelo gingerly looks over a gash in his arm from one of the beast's curled gray claws. Sheathing her sword, Ashe steps toward the towering gates of the tower's base, walking steadily past the gray, wrinkled undead dragon to her left. Vaan walks past her, staring up at a bronze plaque on the stone wall.

"Hey, Fran. Something's written on the wall."

"Engraved by someone, it seems," the viera replies, taking long steps up to his side. "It's quite old." One of her speckled ears twitches and she begins to read. "'Lo, seeker in days unborn, god-blade bearer. Know you: this tower challenges the sky. Ware the watcher; the ward of the Three Waits, soul-hungry, unsated. He without power, want it not. He with power, trust it not. He with sight, heed it not. Rend illusion, cut the true path. In blood, Raithwall.'"

"The Dynast-King?" Ashe cries, rushing forward.

"Does it startle you?" Fran replies, a gentle laughter surprisingly clear in her voice. "The Dynast-King took his sword from the Occuria. It was here he claimed the nethicite. He must have known he was not the last the Occuria would choose. He left this for you." Fran shakes her head, walking past Ashe. "Rend illusion, cut the true path. Words of much mystery. Yet his blood run sin your veins. Perhaps it whispers to you the truth?"

Awed, Ashe steps up to the enormous gates of the tower, pressing a palm to the golden gate. A brilliant blue flash lights up the sky and the seam between the doors, a low rumbling rising from the ground beneath us.

Basch is hot on her heels, stepping inside the temple with a stern expression, scanning for enemies in the dim blue light. I follow Fran, blinking to adjust my eyes to the darkness. The sound of crashing water floods my ears. A waterfall pours down the very center of the towering structure, casting lights across the blue brick walls. But this water is different, for it flows toward the sky in stream of fine mist. Penelo dares to approach the edge of the ground floor, reaching out a hand to touch the water, Gasping, she pulls away with the droplets scatter away from her, continuing their journey to the top.

"How's that even possible?" Vaan asks, scratching the back of his head. Balthier crosses his arms, watching the falls.

"Something's pulling it up," he muses. Fran's ear twitches; Vaan turns and frowns at the sky pirates.

"But why? Does it make clouds or something?"

"Or it's being used to fuel something," I suggest, shrugging when I earn everyone's eyes. "Steam power, perhaps. Power for what, I don't know. At any rate, I can't be bothered to speculate about this any longer. We should get to the Sun-cryst as quickly as possible."

"Agreed," Ashe nods, glancing at the dark passageway that echoes with the growls and cries of the monsters that lie within.

"Shall we?" Reddas asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Better now that never," I mutter with a sigh, leading the charge into the darkness with only the fuel of the sudden urge to face Vayne once and for all energizing me to make my move.  _Your turn, brother._

~|~|~|~|~

The eight of us are beaten, bloody, bruised, and beyond exhausted by the time we make it to the final lift at the very top of the tower. Vaan's lip has been busted several times over, Penelo's weak from the sheer number of times she's casted the same simple curing spells, Balthier has a strip of Basch's shirt tied around his bicep to stop the bleeding from a gash, and our supply of potions and patience ran out long ago. Ashe walks with a slight limp alongside Basch, who's covered in enough cuts to butcher a cockatrice and then some. I walk beside Fran, my muscles aching, my sides pinching, and my feet screaming for a break. As long as the Imperials don't stop, we keep going.

The elevator creaks to a stop, revealing to us a clear path to a beaming ray of light dead ahead. The top of the tower holds no one but us. Reddas steps forth, awed in the light of the artifact.

"So this is the Sun-cryst," he murmurs. The closer we get, the more we can recognize that the beams of light are, in fact, solid beams of glowing crystal that envelop the relic, protecting from greedy hands and selfish souls.

"King Raithwall stood here," Ashe says, drawing the Sword of Kings and eyeing its glittering hilt. "With this sword he cut the Sun-cryst and took its power in his hand."

"But you're going to use the sword to destroy the Sun-cryst," Vaan interrupts, stepping closer to her. Ashe's eyes fall, flickering between the blade and the crystal as she thinks. "Aren't you, Ashe?"

"Don't interrupt me, Vaan," she sighs, but her tone is light and there's a soft smile on her face.

In her other hand she takes the Treaty Blade and thrusts it toward the sky. A whirlwind of blue sparks erupts from the sword, blowing a gusting wind about. A rippling breeze that burns red like fire circles the base of the tower and swirls up to reach the top quickly. Basch and I watch as the fiery tendrils meeting the blade's winds and color the sky in a burst of vibrant orange symbols. Clouds rumbling with thunder and flashing with lightning swarm toward the tower in a rush, drawn by the magick. The sky becomes black and winds howl outside the confines of the tower's balcony.

Before Ashe, the Sun-cryst lays bare, unguarded. She starts forward, gripping the Sword of Kings, but suddenly stops with a gasp. I frown, uncertain of her shock, but then I remember; the visions. Only this time, I don't see Dern and Vaan doesn't see his brother, Reks. There's nothing. A pit opens at the bottom of my stomach and I slowly walk up behind Ashe, watching her hesitant halt.

"Lord Rasler?" Basch says, clearly surprised.

"You see something?" I ask, glancing back at him. Ashe's voice draws me back.

"You want revenge," she states plainly, but her voice is full of anger. "You would have me use the Stone? You would have me destroy the Empire?" she demands. "Is this my duty?! Is this what you want?!" Huffing, she shakes her head. "I cannot."

"Why do you hesitate?" comes a muffled voice. I jump, startled, and turn to see the figure of a heavily armored man walking along the tower's edge, swords drawn. "Take what is yours. The Cryst is a blade. It was meant for you. Wield it! Avenge your father!" Ashe gasps and the man steps closer. I draw my spear slowly, readying myself for what's to come. "Yes, it was _I_  who wore Basch's face—who cut down the life of Dalmasca—Lady Ashe! Your father's murderer is here!"

"You?!" Ashe cries, horrified.

"And Reks!" Vaan shouts, enraged.

"I slew your king. I slew your country. Do these deeds not demand vengeance?" The soldier twists the ends of his swords together, forming one long, bladed staff. I raise my spear. Ashe raises the Treaty Blade, glowering. "Yes. Good! Find your wrath! Take up your sword! Fight, and serve those who died before you!"

"He's goading you!" I shout over the howling wind. "We'll find our vengeance through other means!" Before I can react, the Judge rushes toward Vaan and raises his weapon to strike. An echoing clang resounds through the air as Reddas dives forth and blocks the strike with the flat of his blade, glaring up at the man's helmet.

"A Judge Magister there was," the pirate grits through clenched teeth. "Two years past, he took in his hand the Midlight Shard, stolen from Nabradia, and used it not knowing what he did, and Nabudis was blown away. Cid ordered this of him to learn the nethicite's true power." Reddas pushes against his blade, forcing the Judge back. "That man swore never to let such terrible power be used again. He forsook his Judicer's plate, and his name." The Judge shoves back, pulling his weapon free.

"Judge Zecht," he says calmly.

"It's been too long, Gabranth," Reddas replies, readying his daggers for another attack. "Reach out your hand, Lady Ashe! But remember, that which you must grasp is something beyond revenge, something greater than despair. Something beyond  _our_ reach. Try as we might, Gabranth, history's claims bind us too tightly." Irritated, Gabranth lashes out, swinging at Reddas. His attacks send Reddas to the ground several feet away. Heart hammering in my chest, I prepare to interfere.

"No, we cannot escape the past. This man is living proof!" the Judge cries, pointing at Reddas with his weapon. "What is your past, Daughter of Dalmasca? Did you not swear revenge? Do the dead not demand it?!"

Ashe, silent, stares at whatever apparition of Rasler she sees. Vaan picks up the dagger Rassler dropped on his way to the floor, glaring at the Judge before him as the princess weighs her options. There's nothing but the howling of the wind for a few miserable moments; Vaan and Ashe exchange a gaze that seems to turn the world upside down for the two of them. Vaan's rage fades and Lady Ashe's eyes fall to the ground before she speaks.

"Rasler. My prince. Our time was short. Yet I know this: you were not the kind to take base revenge!" she shouts, swinging her sword through the air as though she cut the ghost in half. "The Rasler I knew... is gone."

"You are a  _saint,_ Ashelia B'nargin," a demonic voice says, its voice scratchy and varied in tone. "You must use the nethicite. You must be the one to strengthen history's weave!" A burst of blue lights sprays from the place before Ashe and scatters.

"I am no false saint for you to use!"

"Ashe..." Vaan whispers.

"In all Dalmasca's long history, not once did we rely on the Dusk Shard," Ashe says slowly, brow furrowed. "Our people resolved to never use I, though their need might be dire.  _That_ was the Dalmasca I wanted back. To use the Stone now would be to betray that." Sharply, she turns to face us. "I will destroy the Sun-cryst! I will discard the Stone!"

"You claim no need of power?" Gabranth demands. "What of your kingdom's broken shame? The dead demand justice!"

"You're wrong," Vaan replies. "What would change? I can't help my brother now. My brother's gone. He's dead!"

"The dead demand nothing," I say, shaking my head. "All that remains is their empty bodies and their legacies, and neither can be carried by pretending they live. Adamar's gone—his time is long past. There's nothing overtaking the Empire with the Crysts can do about that."

"Even with power, we cannot change what has passed. What is done, is done." Ashe drops the Dusk Shard to the ground, watching it roll to the foot of Gabranth without so much as a glimmer. Gabranth shakes his head.

"Without power, what future can you claim? What good is a kingdom you cannot defend?"

"Then I will defend queen and kingdom both!" Basch replies quickly, stepping past Vaan.

"Ha! Defend?  _You?_ You who failed Landis and Dalmasca? What can shame hope to keep safe?!" Gabranth breaks the polearm into two swords, clearly angered. "Your shield is shattered! Your oaths poison those you would protect!"

Without further warning, Gabranth rushes at his twin brother. Being the closest to Basch, I rush to the side, baring my spear as a measly shield to block the initial blow. The power behind the attack nearly knocks me straight to the ground, but I grit my teeth and push back, bearing the pain as Gabranth cuts into my side while I get a good stab into his armor. I stumble away from the frenzy of attacks Gabranth lets loose at his brother, watching Basch block with adept speed, but never once fight back. Vaan dives in, jamming his dagger into the hole I made and tearing it wider. The Judge grunts, swatting the thief away with the hilt of his blade only to be struck by the sharp edge of Ashe's sword. He steps back, facing his brother.

"Hear me, Basch! Do not think that killing the kingslayer will win you back your honor! When you abandoned home and kin, your name was forever stained with blood! "

"Aye, the stain is mine to bear," Basch acknowledges calmly. "But I will bear it willingly, knowing that I did all that I could for hope!"

"Preen and strut as you like! In the end, we are the same! Blood-thirsting carrion birds, hell-bent on revenge!" With that, he reattaches his swords and lunges back into the fight.

Balthier's bullets and Fran's arrows hardly make a dent, and so the pair keep their distance. Vaan gets Gabranth tangled up on his own two feet as he darts around close to the ground. Basch continues to defend, and when he pushes back particularly hard, I ram the end of my spear into the base of his helmet with as much force as I can possibly muster. Gabranth cries out, knocked backward several steps from the blow. Panting, he stands back, swords weakly raised.

"So you, too, would leave your debts unpaid?" he demands.

"Enough of this!" My stomach clenches at the sound of the familiar voice and I meet Balthier's irritated scowl. "I can bear no more!" Doctor Cid steps forth, clutching the Dusk Shard in one hand. "You disappoint me, Gabranth. He trusted you." Cid shoves the Judge aside, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "When you bared steel against the Princess, you foreswore your obligation to your emperor! You shame yourself and make mockery of Lord Larsa's trust." He eyes the Shard, pushing his glasses up with one finger. "You are unfit to serve him as sword or shield. And so, I release you from that service. Your presence is neither required nor welcome."

Doctor Cid strides past, head held high and shoulders back. Gabranth trembles with rage, gripping his weapons so tightly that his hands shake. Growling, he rushes forward to attack the older man. Basch cries out a warning, but flashing red eyes meet him first and Venat transports Cid back to the Judge's side. The scientist flashes a cocky smirk before Venat throws Gabranth across the tower's peak like he weighs nothing more than a feather. The Judge slams into the wall and collapses to the ground with a heaved sigh. Balthier sighs and joins the rest of the party where we've gathered.

"You were only a tool of this Venat," he says simply, though I can see the rage building in him purely from seeing his father.

"How quaint," Doctor Cid replies, his voice mocking. "We are allies! The Occuria give men power as a master feeds his dog: it is meant to tame us. How  _well_ you've resisted their wile." Cid's eyes flare with excitement. "By turning your back on the stones, you give us free hand to write our own history."

"And at what price?" Ashe counters, scowling. "Dalmasca's freedom for your nethicite? I shall not suffer you to have it. The Sun-cryst be damned!" Doctor Cid bellow outs a laugh and rushes toward the crystal; I shake my head in disbelief.

"He's a bloody lunatic!"

"That's for damn sure," Balthier mutters.

"Oh, be sure that it is!" Cid cries. "For what other purpose do you think you're brought us here? But, Milady, I would have you stay your Occurian sword! The Sun-cryst is glutted with mist, and so precious a thing must not be squandered! Let us use the Stone! Finish this, Venat!" Colorful clouds of light swirl above us and Cid lets out a maniacal laugh, throwing his arms out to the side. "Shards of nethicite! Cocoon of the Sun-cryst! Spill forth your Mist upon this Ivalice! Let sea and sky be awash in it, that Bahamut may come and drink his fill!"

The lights above our heads burst into waves of bright heat. I wince, shielding my face with my forearm and bracing myself to keep the winds from knocking me over. Fran's hair whips past my ear and she grunts, gritting her teeth as she, too, battles the magick. From the corner of my eye, I see Balthier peer up over his arm and glower at his father, who continues to shout nonsense to the sky.

"And lo! How brightly burned their lanthorn! Casts it back the shadow of Occurian design! Testament that Man's history shall be His alone!"

"You made your nethicite for  _this?_ " Balthier growls, nothing but anger showing in his features. He glares straight into the blinding light, stepping forward. "You mimic the Occuria's Stone for what? To become a god  _yourself_?!" he shouts over the wind, fists balled at his sides.

"On whose shoulders better to stand than those of the would-be-gods!? Such high hopes I once had, but you ran, and  _ran,_ and they with you! Alas, the hour of your return is late!"

"You hoped for nothing but  _control!_ " I shriek over the screaming wind, but my words fall on deaf ears.

"Come, Ffamran! Revel in the glory of my triumph!" Cid bellows. Balthier practically snarls, overflowing with hatred as his father rushes toward us. One, two, three bullets pierce his chest, but he keeps coming. The light dims almost immediately, and I'm hardly left enough time to blink away the darkness before I'm bludgeoned over the head with one of the scientist's narrow firearms. "Down, down, down goes House Solidor!" Cid cries with glee, turning to shoot at Vaan. Basch drags me to my feet.

"You're alright?"

I don't answer, rushing toward the old man and using the pole of my spear to knock Cid's guns upward before stabbing his side. Blood stains his jacket and drips down the side of his body, but he doesn't react, knocking my spear to the ground and sending a spray of bullets my way. I cry out in pain, falling back onto my elbows as my spear clatters away. Fran's arrow pierces his heart and he pulls it free, stopped only by a wave of flames summoned by the viera's palm. Balthier shoots his father; Ashe and Basch attack with their swords. Penelo heals me with a Cure spell and I hurry to pick up my spear when Reddas suddenly rushes forward and throttles Cid to the ground. The old man's injuries seem to hit him like a wall and he clambers to his feet, chuckling as his wounds stitch back together. He pulls out a glowing orange crystal, beaming.

"Behold manufacted nethicite, the fruit of our power and knowledge! See what the Stone of Man is capable of! Witness its power with your own eyes!" He hurls it across the tower, cackling. "Famfrit! To me!"

The crystal bursts and a looming, golden giant appears.  _An Esper._ Cid readies his guns yet again, still laughing. Reddas, Vaan, and Basch head toward Famfrit immediately. I snatch up my spear and run to stab Cid in the back while he's preoccupied with Ashe; my attack is deflected as though he's made of stone. Huffing, I turn to attack Famfrit when its engulfed completely in a shower of sparks from Fran. The Esper freezes completely, jerking only twice before collapsing completely. With a final hiss, it dissolves in a spray of blue sparks, reforming only into a spinning shard of symbols.

Balthier fires his gun three times; Cid groans, gasping and raising his firearms with shaky hands. They slip from his fingers and clatter to the ground. With a weak, pain groan, he falls forward. Balthier slings his weapon onto his back, rushing forward only to be stopped by the ghostly form of Venat. Balthier glowers, opening his mouth to speak, only to be stopped by Cid's wheezing voice.

"Let him by, Venat. It is done." Cid carefully begins to push himself to his feet, wincing. "Ah, how I have enjoyed these six years."

"The pleasure was all mine," Venat replies, his voice sharp and rippling between octaves. The Occuria moves to the right and reveals the bloodied scientist to his bitter, wayward son. Frowning at the fading hands and feet of his father, Balthier speaks.

"Was there no other way?" he asks, brows furrowed. Cid chuckles, shaking his head.

"Spend your pity elsewhere. If you are so set on running, hadn't you best be off?" Cid cracks the slightest of smiles that I dare call warm, perhaps even fond. "Fool of a pirate." Balthier's face turns to one less readable as the last of his father fades away, his eyes locked on the last place Cid stood for a long moment. Suddenly, a thud greets my ears and I turn to see Fran lying on the ground, eyes screwed shut.

"Fran!"

Penelo and I rush to the viera's side. The girl brushes the hair from Fran's face and I press my fingers to her neck to get a pulse.  _Her heart's gone haywire._

"The Mist burns," Fran forces, sounding far weaker than we've ever heard her. "To bursting it beats. The cocoon!" Balthier snaps out of whatever trance he was in and crouches beside his partner. Penelo shuffles out of the way, worried. "The Sun-cryst bursts," Fran moans, shuddering. "You must run as far as you can." A soft smile graces Balthier's face for a glimmer of a second before it vanishes.

"Easy, Fran," he says softly, his eyes gentle as he watches his friend suffer. Fran presses a clawed hand to his cheek, crimson eyes searching his face.

"Hadn't you best be off?" she asks earnestly. "That's what a sky pirate does. You fly, don't you? So take Shae and fly far, far away." Closing his eyes, Balthier takes Fran's hand in his before giving her a cocky half-smile.

"I suppose you'd better hang on then. Shae's not replacing you anytime soon."

"Damn," I reply softly, forcing a smile.

"You must quit this place!" Reddas shouts. "It's reacting! I've never seen it's like before. Nay, never this large. Never such threat impendent." He pulls the blade from Ashe's hands; I leap to my feet.

"Reddas—"

"For Nabudis!"

"Reddas!" Vaan protests. The pirate rushes through the force of the Sun-cryst's magick wind and leaps into the air, sword overhead. "Reddas, no!"

"I, Judge Magister, condemn you to oblivion!"

" _No!"_ I scream, leaping to my feet.

But it's far too late. Balthier lifts Fran over his shoulder and clutches my arm, dragging us far away from the blast that impacts the tower the instant the Sword of Kings meets the Sun-cryst. A wave of blinding light and immense heat blast us as we rush down into the tower with everyone else hot on our heels. We don't stop sprinting until we're on the Strahl and high in the air, watching the tower burst from the pressure of the exploding stone.

Fran lies on the fold-out bed behind the cabin door with Penelo at her side, and even shielded from the blast, she can feel the burn of the blast. Vaan stands between me and Balthier, gray eyes locked on the flames licking at the ancient temple.

"Reddas," he murmurs.

"He saved us," Ashe replies gently.

"Yeah, but..." The boy's voice trails off. I sigh, glancing at Balthier.

"But how long will it last?"

"As long as you'd like," Balthier replies after a moment, pulling a lever on his control panel and turning us away from the scene. "As long as you don't get yourself killed."

"That's right," I mutter, shuddering. My heart skips a beat and I suddenly forget to breathe. "All that's left... is Vayne."


	49. Imminent Evil

"Al-Cid," Vaan gasps, rushing into the closed cabin containing the strange man we met in Mount Bur-Omisace. His boots are kicked up on Reddas's desk and his dark hair is brushed in front of his eyes. A woman stands silently at his side, hands clasped before her.

"We let ourselves inside," the man replies, his accent as thick as ever. "The situation is one demanding some haste, you understand."

"How did you know where we were?" I ask, crossing my arms. Al-Cid stands abruptly, lifting his chin.

"My little birds, they tell me many, many things." He stops before Ashe, looking down at her through his dark glasses. "My Lady, the war begins now."

"Then you were unsuccessful in stopping the Rozarrian fleet?"

"I used a variety of methods. All went according to plan until it came time to request withdrawal of our most devoted generals." He paces to the edge of the broad ship, scratching his dark goatee. The rest of the party strides into the room, watching the odd man. "In their enthusiasm for war, our great military leaders went behind my back, straight to Marquis Ondore's Resistance."

"The Resistance?" Ashe repeats, eyes wide.

"During training, a division of Resistance ignored their orders and disappeared. They were next found exchanging broadsides with the Imperials over Old Nabradia."

"Why would they go there?" Basch demands. "They were asking to be found!"

"You misunderstand. Those ships most surely belonged to a Rozarrian division. They may have joined Ondore's resistance forces as patriots, or even mercenaries, but in reality, they are regulars of the Rozarrian army under direct command of our war-pavilion. This fifth column has invaded Imperial airspace and provoked a response. Unable to abandon them, His Excellency the Marquis was obliged to give his main fleet the order to attack." Balthier paces over to a nearby table, leaning against the edge of the wooden surface with his arms crossed as he listens.  _He's restless._ "And the battleground... is Dalmasca."

"Should this fight drag on, Rozarria with enter the fray, the defense of Dalmasca as their excuse," Balthier muses, looking over at Ashe, "and we will have a war between empires."

"Neither side can take that," I huff, rubbing the back of my neck. "The casualties to both would be detrimental. Vayne's plan to take history back may just result in ending it."

"Correct! They will bide their time, waiting to strike, until the Empire has spent itself against the Marquis. But Vayne—he will crush them and the Marquis both between his hands." Al-Cid claps his hands together sharply and Penelo jumps.

"Vayne holds the Dusk Shard no longer," Basch points out. "His advantage is lost."

"Vayne has advantages enough," Al-Cid counters. "He stands on higher ground, and my birds tell me he has awoken something quite..." He slides his glasses to the end of his nose, eyes piercing mine. "...Large."

" _Bahamut,_ " I sigh, shaking my head and taking a deep breath.

"What?" Vaan frowns.

" _Bahamut,_ Lord of the Sky," Al-Cid says. "There was a stirring in the Mist in the direction of Ridorana, I'm told.  _Bahamut_ awoke soon after this."

"It is the Mist that came before the Cryst was undone. It breathed lifted into this  _Bahamut,"_ Fran speaks up, crossing her arms. "If Reddas had not stopped it when he did, how much more Mist might it have drunk?" She turns to face Balthier. "All went according to Doctor Cid's designs." Balthier huffs and his fingers twitch, gripping the edge of the table tightly as he grits out his reply.

"Yes, the man's last great accomplishment, I fear." He sighs, meeting Ashe's eyes. "And so it falls on me to put an end to the thing."

"Not you alone," I shake my head. "Vayne's  _my_ brother; he's the reason we're in this mess to begin with."

"... Vayne commands  _Bahamut_ himself?" Ashe asks, walking closer to Al-Cid.

"He comes to Rabanastre."

"Then I will defend Dalmasca and stop this  _Bahamut._ This is my charge—"

"That's  _our_ charge, actually," Vaan butts in, flashing a smile.

"It's our home," Penelo pipes up, grabbing Ashe's arm. "It's belongs to us all."

"Well, not all of us," I reply lightly. Balthier's lips quirk up into a smug smile when Ashe turns to face he and Fran.

"And my charge is to hinder and delay this. Rozarrian invasion for as long as is possible," Al-Cid mutters, heading for the door. "I will do what I can. Ah, yes..." He turns back sharply, taking one of Ashe's hands in his and pulling his glasses off. "When this unpleasantness is done, you must come to Rozarria. I will take you to the Ambervale of Clan Margrace. Such things I will show you! Until then, I will be waiting." With that, he leaves behind a confused Ashe and exits the room. Balthier scoffs loudly, resting his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes.

"Jealous?" I tease, nudging him with my hip.

"Of what?" Balthier practically snorts.

"Of his way with words and women, what else?" I scoff, earning a snicker from Vaan. Ashe shakes her head, taking a deep breath.

"I suppose we're to take the  _Strahl_ to the  _Bahamut_  then?"

"We can hardly fight Vayne from the ground," Basch points out. Balthier exchanges a glance with Fran.

"It seems we have no choice, dear," he sighs, straightening and hitting the back of my shoulder as he starts toward the door. "Looks like you're going to have to give the co-pilot's seat back to Fran, Shae."

"I don't mind," I say, though my fingers itch to discover more of the beauty's quirks and secrets.

"No," Fran shakes her head, following us out of the room. "I will show Vaan how to fly. You must rest."

"There's no need," Balthier frowns. "I'm rested enough to—"

"Let her do what she wants," I cut him off. "It's not often that Fran asks for something."

"That's what you'd think until you were stuck with her for years," Balthier mutters, earning a side-eyed stare from the viera. "Fine, fine. I'll laze about and you teach the urchin to wreck our ship. Sounds like a plan."

"Are we headed straight to Rabanastre?" I ask hesitantly, watching Balfonheim pass by as we hurry to the aerodrome.

"As long as Vayne is, we are," he sighs, shaking his head. "Though, I admit that I wish we had more time. This won't be quite as simple as everything else has been."

"Nothing's been simple," I frown. He shrugs.

"I suppose not... But my point stands."

"Vayne's always been a pain in the ass," I mumble, taking a breath of the salty sea breeze. "But this... This really takes the cake."

We head into the aerodrome and hurry to the  _Strahl_. Boarding one by one, everyone disperses. Vaan plops into the co-pilot's chair beside Fran, his eyes wide as he looks over all the buttons, levers, and switches. Penelo perches in the seat behind him and watches. Ashe and Basch seat next to each other, speaking in low voices as they once did when we first started out on this chaotic chase of a journey.

I start to head toward the cabin with everyone else only to be halted by the sound of Balthier clearing his throat. I raise an eyebrow and he jerks his head to the left, starting toward a door a few feet away. Torn, I hesitate before following with a sigh. The door opens to reveal a simple bedroom with a bed and desk bolted to the floor. A side table is secured beside the narrow bed and below a broad window, and the drawers are all latched in case of a bumpy ride. Balthier waits for me to step into the room before closing the door and heaving a sigh.

"Are you alright?" I ask, tracing a finger across the smooth wood of the clean desk. There's nothing but a simple jar of potions resting at the corner and a pen waiting to be used at the edge. 

"I'm alright," Balthier replies, running a hand through his short hair before sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows pressed to his thighs and his head hung.

"It's odd, isn't it?" I turn to the window, watching the crew of moogles leave the undercarriage of the ship. "Knowing it's all over... That his fight's done."

"... I suppose."

I kneel before the pirate, ducking my head to meet his lowered eyes. Silently, I press my palm to his cheek, forcing the smallest semblance of a smile.

"I understand. At this rate... I suppose it's best to forget all about him until later."

"You're not helping," he replies bluntly, but his tone is light. He reaches up and pulls my hand away, pressing his lips to my knuckles. My heart flutters; I shudder, pulling away sharply and heading across the room to busy myself with the desk. "I almost think we should give in and blow the whole damned nation up."

"You can't be serious," I scoff, pulling the wooden desk chair close to the bed and sitting on it backwards. "You of  _all_ people should know that those citizens are far more innocent than anyone that claims to represent them."

"I was only teasing," he sighs, looking up at me. "Though, I'd rather get this all over with—this oppression and violence nonsense."

"And you think I don't? This is a war Vayne and I have been fighting for six years." I shake my, propping my head up with my hand. "But that's just the way it is these days, now isn't it? It's all a matter of perspective. On one side, the killers are the heroes that bring victory home on their shoulders. On the other, they're the bloodthirsty villains that work for the devil himself. Either way, someone's left trampled in the dust whether they deserve it or not."

"But are they ever truly quelled?" Balthier counters. "Once unrest is bred, there's no such thing as peace. True satisfaction is hard to come by." I cock my head to the side, thinking.

"And after all this... you think you'll be satisfied?"

"One can hope, though I doubt it. This was never the plan," he admits, shaking his head. "And you? This is your life's mission, is it not?"

"I suppose I'll have find something new to busy myself with," I shrug. Balthier raises an eyebrow and I feel my face growing red.  _Gods, that sounded so..._ I swallow hard, looking at the floor.  _That's not what I meant at all._

"What's the plan?"

"Rebuild the  _Castean,_ " I reply quickly, certain of my answer. "Perhaps I'll invite Jonan to help; he  _is_ the one who tore it pieces, after all."

"Of course he's invited," Balthier mutters, rolling his eyes as he straightens. "Does your forgiveness for the boy ever run out?"

"What's  _your_ issue?" I scoff, standing and pushing the chair back to where it belongs before running a hand through my hair. "He's a piece of past that I can't just cut off."

"Even after all he did?"

"Even after all he did."

"... Damn." I laugh, shaking my head. "What do I have to do to earn that sort of leniency?"

"Don't worry about it," I reply simply, flashing a smug smile. "It's not exactly a reoccurring favor."

"Pity." He reaches out and takes my hands, pulling me closer. I settle on his lap, facing him with an eyebrow raised expectantly. "What's that look for?"

"Since when are you  _touchy?_ "

"I'm not."

"Then what's  _this?_ " I retort.

"Don't worry about it."

"Sure thing," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I won't worry about the man who, once the pirate to tell me off for  _speaking_  to him, I am now  _straddling_."

"It seems times have changed," he replies simply, cocky as ever. I roll my eyes, flinching when a hand takes mine, fingers playing with the cold metal bands that I wear to represent my haunted memories. "I nearly forgot about your obsession with finding petty meaning in your jewelry," he mutters.

"I don't know why  _you_  don't. They were intended to be symbols."

"Were they? I suppose I could find some meaning with help."

"You want me to help you understand the significance of some petty, colorful jewelry," I state in mock disbelief. He only smiles. "You're an irritating bastard, you know that?"

"And yet, here you are." He lifts a hand, eyeing the collection of mismatched rings there. "I think the idea that a simple little  _band_ could tie anyone to anything ridiculous, to be perfectly honest."

"Do you now?" I hardly understand the point of the argument, but fighting is one thing I'm particularly good at, and I'm determined to play along if it means I'll win. "How could I convince you otherwise?"

"I doubt you can," he chuckles. "You could easily pick out one of these and claim that it represents the tie between the two of us, and then I'd be expected to chase after a disaster of royal blood for the rest of my days."

"Not exactly," I laugh. "But what's stopping you?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he teases.

"Scared I'm right, hm?"

"No."

"Then let me pick one," I grin, catching hold of his wrist. "I pick my favorite and that one represents  _us_ , whether I'm stuck here or we part for eternity after Vayne's defeat. Just a semblance of good memories, yeah?"

"Good? I'm not expecting much from you," he reminds me slyly. I swat at his head. "But if you get a kick out it, go ahead."

"I'd get a kick out of watching rocks erode at this rate."

"That's rather boring  _and_ insulting. Am I not enough entertainment for you?"

"We'll see soon enough," I shrug. He chuckles, turning his eyes to the window as our altitude increases.

"I do have one request for you," he says suddenly, his voice having changed into an odd, serious tone. "Stay around for at least a little while after this is over. See if you can't fit here with me and Fran. The least we could do is find supplies for your ship."

"You're kidding," I blurt without thinking. His unchanged expression turns my stomach to lead and I shake my head, my heart stinging from another lash.  _This isn't how I wanted him to know._  "Balthier, we've had our fun and you've been the reason this has all been bearable, but..." I shrug stiffly, unable to catch my breath through my tightening throat. "I didn't expect to see you after this. To be honest, I was expecting the two of us to branch off and never speak again."

"Is that what you'd  _hoped_?" His words are sharper than I'd expected them to be. I cringe, glancing toward the door.

"Well, yes. I'm sorry, but after Dern, I can't risk _—"_

"You're giving in to fear, then," he snaps, scowling. I sigh. I don't blame him for the sudden turn in his mood, but at the same time, he couldn't have possibly thought I was going to stick around. That's not who I am. I'm not Shera. I'm Shae; I run. It's as simple as that. "Was that what you expected when you pouted on Reddas's ship? Your mind has changed so much since then, Shae."

"I didn't  _pout,"_ I defend half-heartedly. A heavy, cold silence overtakes the room and I take a deep, shuddering breath. "I... can't  _lie_  and say that I don't want to stay, Balthier. I'm just tired of being the curse of misery and misfortune on the people I... care about."

"The curse was cast by Vayne. I meant when he was long dead."

More silence passes before I finally meet his angry eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure I can take any more dramatic tragedies... Please try to understand." He says nothing. I force a light laugh, resting a hand at the nape of his neck. "I suppose that's the thing I envy about you. You've always kept yourself facing forward, ready for the next adventure despite the past's grip. You dive headfirst into danger in hopes that there'll be treasure on the other side. You're  _fearless_ , Balthier." I take his hand and tap an orange ring that's twisted around his middle finger. "You know, I've taken a liking to this one. Matches my sash and all." Balthier huffs a short sigh, looking between me and the simple metal band.

"Well, then," he starts, his face serious but his eyes light. "Perhaps someday, when I'm certain you won't go running off and I can bear to part with it, I'll hand it over to you."

"Deal," I grin, shaking his hand. He arches an eyebrow.

"That's not how I'd rather seal this utterly ridiculous agreement." I roll my eyes, pressing my lips to his. He chuckles, burying a hand into my hair and pushing me closer. Pulling away for a moment with his eyes shining mischievously, he rests a hand on my hip. "What say we do this Jonan's way? We might not leave this encounter alive, you know." I laugh, shaking my head and pushing him back onto the mattress.

"I say you're a pessimist and a  _fool,_ Ffamran."

"Ah, but you can't say you're bothered by it," he replies smoothly.

"No," I admit, pulling my shirt off over my head and tossing it to the floor. "I suppose I can't."


	50. Bahamut

"We're flying into that?" I scoff, leaning over the edge of Vaan's seat and staring in horror at the whirling gray ash of the tornado engulfing Vayne's enormous mothership.

"I expect the turbulence to slow by the time we reach it," Fran explains, glancing up at Balthier, who looms over her shoulder at my side.

She crinkles her nose the slightest bit, turning back to the control panel. Just as she does so, the fleet of airships headed for Vayne slows. A bullet of fire flits from Vayne's ship to one of the crafts flying toward him. There's a long pause... The ship begins to collapse in on itself, as though it's being sucked into a vacuum, and all that's left is a fiery burst of debris.

"He's not taking any surrenders," Ashe breathes, scowling.

"The winds did go down, though," I sigh, shaking my head.

"What's  _that?!"_ Penelo cries, pointing to a new fleet of ships that rushes toward Vayne's like a swarm of locusts. Thousands of missiles spray through the air as a battle among all the miniature ships commences. Another red laser fires through the air and a burst of flames begins to suck more ships into the vacuum created by manufacted nethicite.

"The Resistance," Ashe huffs, standing sharply. "Get me a connection!"

"Aye, aye, Captain," I grumble, turning to help her with the intercom system.

"It's our chance is what it is," Balthier mutters, leaning forward and pushing a lever all the way up. "Hang on!" The  _Strahl_ takes off in a burst of speed, rushing toward Vayne.

"Uncle, it is I," Ashe says loudly into the speaker clasped in her hand. I fall into a seat next to Basch, careful not to topple over as the ship twists in all directions to avoid the rushing artillery. "I'm crossing to the  _Bahamut_  to stop Vayne!"

"What are you saying?" a familiar voice demands. "You are too rash! Your duties come after the battle is over!"

"If we allow them to destroy us here, there will be no after. You must assist our charge."

Well, she's got a good point there.

"Stop. You must pull back!" Ondore cries. "Stop the  _Strahl!"_

"Give it to me!" Vaan hisses, leaping up from his seat in the co-pilot's chair and snatching the speaker away. Balthier mutters curses under his breath as he dives into the empty seat to assist Fran.

"Hold it!" he cries, but his voice is odd... My jaw  _drops_  and I struggle to hold back a laugh. His impression of Larsa's voice is nearly  _perfect,_ accent and all. "I mean, w-wait! This is Larsa Solidor! I'm going in with her! So... we're fine!" My stomach begins to ache from holding back so much; Penelo claps a hand over my mouth. "I got the Princess covered!" Vaan winks at me. There's silence on the other line for a moment.

"... Larsa Solidor? So you hold him as a hostage?"

"No, Uncle," Ashe pries the speaker away. "He will fight with us against Vayne!"

"Leave it to us!" Vaan cries in his Larsa-voice, snickering into his palm.

"... Alright."

Ashe hangs up and I nearly explode, falling back onto Basch's shoulder and howling until my stomach hurts.

"I got the Princess covered?" Penelo retorts, raising an eyebrow at Vaan.

"Larsa'd say that," he snaps back, sounding more like he's reassuring himself than anything else.

"No, he wouldn't!" I practically cackle, clutching my sides. Basch smiles, shaking his head with a sigh when Ashe shoots him a sympathetic look.

"We're relying on you for fire support," Balthier says firmly, redirecting our attention. "Give them something to think about. We'll pick our moment and make our move." With that, he pulls another lever and sends us speeding off again. We soar through the air, twisting around bullets and missiles and dipping under flying debris. "Quite the welcome!" he calls over the sounds of battle.

"Careful!" I squeak, ducking my head as we barely miss an aircraft that's spun out of control.

"She's got it," he snaps impatiently.

"One follows!" Fran cries.

"Ah, you want to dance," Balthier mutters, eyeing his monitor. "Then let's dance, darling!" We twist around a spray of fiery beams of light, heading straight toward our new target.

"A new partner," Fran scoffs, eyes narrowed.

"It's not easy being this popular, you know," Balthier calls over his shoulder.

"Oh, cry me a bloody river, Leading Man," I retort, rolling my eyes. At the last second, Fran pulls the ship straight up into the air and the aircraft following us slams into the ship we soared towards moments before. Immediately, we pick up speed and head make a beeline for the  _Bahamut_ , spinning to gain momentum between ships.

"There it is," Balthier points out, nodding toward the looming aircraft.

Twisting the ship around, Fran lands us on an extended airstrip and opens the door. We're instantly on our feet, sprinting toward the exit. I hang back, watching Balthier settle a few things before standing abruptly and running with the rest of the party. I wave for Vaan to go on ahead and he nods, rushing after Basch. I grab hold of Balthier's wrist, giving a sharp tug to pull him to a stop.

"I'd hate to turn you down, but now is most definitely not the time," he says, facing me with an expectant look on his face. I make no way of indicating that I heard him, placing a hand on either side of his face and pulling him down for one last kiss. Time seems to pause, if only for a moment. I pull away slowly, a hint of a smile spreading across my lips.

"In case we don't survive," I explain simply. He huffs a short, breathy laugh and shakes his head, pulling out of my grasp with the cockiest of smiles on his face. "Your sideburns are crooked by the way!" I call, chasing after him.

"Brothers, not twins," he replies smoothly, giving no answer when Vaan demands to know why we took so long.

We don't stop running until we've reached the inside of the ship, which looks remarkably like a blend between the  _Leviathan_ and the Archades laboratory tower. Here we slow to a stop to catch our breath—rather, for Penelo to catch her breath. Balthier immediately turns around to face us all, sure of himself once again.

"Vayne will be in the fortress's command tower." Adjusting the cuffs on his shirt absently, he glances over at Fran. "I saw something of the like on our way in here. Right above our heads."

"Of course he is," I sigh, crossing my arms. "Where else would he put himself except above everyone else?"

"We need not fight all the Empire to win," Ashe reminds us. "If we can get to Vayne, we can put an end to this war."

"Let's get going then," Vaan nods, scratching the back of his head. "Find Vayne, wherever he's perched, and knock him off.

Gathered together as one unit, we head down the dim corridor, weapons barred and attention directed to any details our sense pick up. Everything smells faintly of smoke, gunpowder, and oil. The whirring of thousands of cogs and pistons floods my ears and rumbles through the soles of my shoes. My spear feels heavy and sure in my grip as though Dern's strength runs through the crevices along its smooth wooden shaft. The first soldiers we see are beyond the door leading to the third bulkhead of the ship.

Fran unleashes a burst of flames that leaves the men screaming and collapsing to their knees as their suits of armor cook them alive. Basch and Ashe finish them off just in case. Suddenly, the adrenaline rush hits us all at once and we're running before we even realize. Balthier raises his gun and shoots down a charging trooper. I rush ahead and jam my spear up through the bottom of a man's helmet, ripping my weapon free as I hurry to keep up. It's hit us all at once: this is it. This is what matters. This is what, after all the pains, aches, and tears of the last few weeks, we've been fighting for. The end of Vayne Solidor is our reward. Rewards are treasure.

Treasure is my middle name.

We hurry down staircases, corridors, and endless trickles of soldiers. Miraculously, I never seem to run out of energy, charging to challenging opponents head-on. The moment I get out of my head, I leave behind my magnetic tendency toward trouble far behind me. I'm the damsel in distress no longer. We slow only once we've entered a new, entirely awe-inspiring room. In the very center, a core of golden lights and energy storage units stands over a hundred feet tall, from ceiling to floor.

"Whoa," Vaan breathes, skidding to a stop as his eyes go wide with wonder.

The entire ship trembles. I catch the railing to keep myself from tumbling down the staircase; Basch grasps Ashe's arm just as she begins to stumble. Balthier's nearly thrown to his knees, looking about the enormous space quickly in an effort to understand what's happening. Penelo cries out, clinging to Vaan as the shaking gradually becomes more violent.

"It must be the Resistance!" Ashe calls out over the deafening rumbles of the  _Bahamut._

Suddenly, all is as still as it was before.

"The Resistance fights their battle well," Fran says. Balthier stands beside her, brushing off his sleeves with a distasteful frown. "We dare not fail them. We dare not falter."

"Stop worrying," Vaan protests. "We just have to clean up here, and then Ashe'll be the queen."

"It's never quite that simple," I mutter, catching Ashe's eye.

"It's kind of hard to believe," Penelo adds, blissfully unaware of my doubts. "I can't even imagine trying to rule a whole kingdom."

"A queen might always 'run away' with the help of a sky pirate looking to raise is bounty a peg," Basch replies slyly, glancing over at Balthier and Fran.

"Hm," Balthier hums, the slightest crack of a smile crossing his face. "I doubt our queen would need the help of any sky pirates."

"Do you really think me as strong as all that?" Ashe asks light-heartedly.

"Who said anything about  _strong?"_  Vaan scoffs, grinning. "You'll make it. You got good friends."

"Well, if that's all it takes, I suppose I'll be taking over Archadia after this," I tease, crossing my arms.

"And why don't you?" Vaan counters, cocking his head to the side. "You've got Larsa at your back; why not give it a go?"

"We've been over this," I roll my eyes, wrestling a smile, and step past him. "I've never been one for politics."

"That, and you can hardly be an empress if you're running off to shirk your duties without a moment's notice," Balthier adds wryly, following the rest of us down the stairs and onto the path that surrounds the core.

"Empress," Penelo repeats, beaming as she skips up to my side. "Wouldn't that be an impressive title? Empress Shera Castean Solidor of Archadia."

"It's more a mouthful than a title," Basch chuckles.

" _Thank_ you," I grin at the knight. "Finally, someone on my side."

"Pardon  _me_ ," Balthier mutters, shaking his head.

Before I can retort, a flood of soldiers enters the doorway we just left, and rather than staying to fight, we collectively agree to run with short nods of our heads. It takes hardly a minute for us to reach the door, which we rush through without second thought. I sincerely hope someone's keeping track of our direction; I lost my way a long time ago. I've no idea whether we've headed up, down, or sideways through this monstrosity Vayne calls an airship.

Right turn, left turn, left turn, right, left again. Up a set of stairs, right, down a short hallway, left, keep straight, up another staircase. It never seems to end. Dodging bullets, firing our own attacks, healing up, running again. It's an eternal cycle. Heavy iron magick nodes and spiraling defensive rooks begin to throw our fire spells back into our faces, effectively scorching the end of my braid and scattering blistering burns across Basch's skin. Their outer shells are too hard for the sharp edges of our weapons; we run again, this time with much more dread sinking our stomachs.  _Can we really defeat Vayne if we can't handle his simple troops?_

When we finally pass through another door, we take a moment to catch our breath. The energy we've spent is starting to weigh on us. Vaan wipes the sweat from his brow, hunched over with his palms pressed to his knees. I take a deep breath, heading toward a panel of levers and switches that rests on the edge of a nearby platform.

"Looks like this is a lift," I muse, eyeing the controls in search of a label or two. There's nothing.

"Let's use it to go up," Ashe says firmly, nodding in response to my questioning gaze. My fingers twitch toward a lever when the air suddenly grows unbearably tense. Fran's ear twitches and everything in Basch demeanor changes. From behind, a tall figure dressed in a Judge's armor approaches.

"So you have lived," Basch says stiffly. Gabranth pauses, weapon in hand.

"I am Judge Magister," he replies, his voice muffled by his heavy horned helmet. He's obviously wounded, limping toward us slowly. "Even in disgrace. My just reward for aiding the Empire that destroyed my homeland."

"Gabranth," Basch shakes his head. "Do not blame yourself anymore."

"You confound me, Brother!" the Judge cries, pointing at Basch sharply. "You failed Landis, you failed Dalmasca... all you were to protect. Yet you still hold on to your honor!  _How?_ "

"I had someone more important than me to defend, and defend her I have. How is it that  _you_ have survived? Is it not because you defend Lord Larsa?"

"Silence! All was stripped from me!" Gabranth shouts, waving his sword about like a lunatic. "Only hatred for the brother who fled our homeland remains mine." He raises his blade, pulling it apart to create two sharp weapons. "Tell me: why do you forsake that which you must hold most precious?"

"I do as I must, Brother," Basch replies coldly, watching the Judge's every move. "Or is that not answer enough?"

With a half scream, half roar, Gabranth lunges toward Basch. The knight is quick to draw his sword, blocking the weak blows his injured brother throws at him easily. Quickly, he sidesteps to evade the next swing, sending Gabranth stumbling onto the ground. Grunting, the wounded soldier rolls to his feet, readying his weapons yet again.

"Futile, Basch!" he exclaims. "Long have I walked in hatred's company. As long as I can curse your name I shall not be defeated!"  _Whoa, that sounds familiar._

"Then come!" Basch shouts back. "Wield your hatred and crush me. I welcome it!"

Growling, Gabranth rushes forward again. His movements are sloppy and quick, easily countered by Basch. I exchange a glance with Balthier, wondering if one of us should help him. But this is only something that can be settled one-on-one, I supposed.

I hold my breath as a gash is sliced open in Basch's arm, wondering how the identical twins managed to turn out so starkly different. It's horrifying how close Gabranth's motives match up to mine. Hatred drives us, carries us to the end goal of ending brothers that so obviously turned their backs to us in our time of need. I suppose what matters is how we go about it. Vayne must look at me the same way Basch looks at his Gabranth.

Basch gets in a particularly bone-shattering blow, nearly sending the Judge Magister flying. Gasping for breath, Gabranth steps back, letting one sword clatter to the ground. He slowly raises the other, pointing it at Basch's throat.

"Have you your fill of this?" he asks, voice shuddering.

"I would ask you the same," Basch counters, his composure as cool as ever. "Let this end, Noah."

The Judge collapses onto one knee, his blade striking the floor with a sharp clang.

"I've no right to be called that name," he replies lowly, head hung.

"Then live and reclaim it."

With that, Basch turns and heads back to Ashe's side. Gabranth, rather, Noah, doesn't make an effort to move, panting as he focuses on the floor. Ashamed, guilty, or purely exhausted... I have no clue. I do, however, have the slightest bit of knowledge on working machinery, so I put that to use and send the lift upward once we're all on board. I turn my face upward, watching the uppermost level of the  _Bahamut_ approach.  _This is it. What we've been waiting for._ I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.  _This is the end I've been praying for six years. It can't all be for nothing._ In the silence, I hear the low rumble of Balthier's mutters to Fran across the elevator and crack half a sad smile.  _I can't let this end them, too._


	51. Suffering's Bargain

We rush up the stairs as quickly as our legs will carry us. My legs burn, but not nearly as much as my blood does when I see Vayne's tall, slender figure standing in the center of the round room. The breath is knocked from my lungs upon seeing his pale eyes for the first time since I was arrested in Rabanastre with Vaan and Balthier. His dark hair brushes over his shoulders as he turns to face us with his hands clasped behind his back. Larsa stands beside him, brows furrowed and hands balled into fists. If I didn't want to deal with the repercussions, I would rush at Vayne and skewer him on my spear by his throat before anyone could stop me. Larsa gasps upon seeing us. Vayne lifts a hand out to the side, his face devoid of any emotion.

"I bit you welcome to my sky fortress, the  _Bahamut._ I must apologize for my delay in welcoming you aboard my ship." He presses his hand to his chest and gives the slightest bow. Vaan frowns and Balthier rolls his eyes. "Permit me to ask: who are you? An angel of vengeance? Or perchance a saint of salvation?"

"I am simply myself," Ashe replies softly. "No more and no less. And I want only to be free."

"Hm," Vayne hums. "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule." He extends his hand yet again, eyes narrowed on the princess. "I'm sure you've learned my dear sister is in the same situation. You have, after all, been traveling together for some time."

"I have no desire to take away your imaginary playpen of kings and kingdoms," I retort, catching his eyes in a bitter glare. "I've never had an interest in the throne; you know this."

"Ah, but you have the desire to take away my life, and that is fuel enough," he replies smoothly.

Anger burns in my chest and I grit my teeth. His lack of reaction, his empty voice... I want him to feel the same rage that I do, to feel my pain. To  _suffer_ at my hand as I did at his.

Gods, I'm more like Gabranth than I thought.

"Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost," he continues, redirecting his focus to Ashe. The slightest of smiles tugs at his lips. "Observe well, Larsa. Watch and mark you the suffering of those who must rule, yet lack the power."

"No."

Vayne's face falls and he takes a deep breath. Larsa scowls up at him indignantly, raising his sword toward our elder brother. Somewhere in the flames of my fury, I feel pride well up.  _That's my boy._

"No, Brother," Larsa says in a voice that's almost mocking. "I will not. Though I lack your power, I will still persist." My heart sinks when Vayne chuckles.

"Bold words, child. It seems you've spent too much time with our Shera."

"Cocky bastard," I scoff, pulling out my spear and rushing toward him with Vaan hot on my heels.

I raise the sturdy wood of my spear to block the first quick, sharp jabs he throws at me with his fists, ducking under a swing from his leg and bashing his head with the blunt end of my weapon. Balthier fires twice, but it seems as though Vayne doesn't feel the bullets, turning to deliver a swift kick to Vaan's chest. He spins midair and hits me square in the face with his elbow.  _Damn_ _you, Vayne_. I crinkle my nose and spit out a mouthful of blood from where I bit my tongue upon impact.  _I should've gone to training more when I lived with him._

Basch and Ashe rush in with their blades at the ready as Penelo sends out a flurry of healing spells. Fran fires a trio of flaming arrows, momentarily distracting Vayne long enough that Basch can get a good slash in. But my brother's as fast on his feet as the hares in the plains surrounding Jahara; the knight's flat on his back with a nasty nosebleed in mere moments. Fran scorches him in response and Balthier's gun cracks again. Back on my feet, I lunge at him, blocking a few more attacks as though my spear is a quarterstaff and leaping backward to evade a strike from his boot. Vayne backs off as well, lifting his chin as he stares us all down.

"Your lives are forfeit, and your insurgence with them. Dalmasca will again know order. For good and all, I shall bring your futile attempts at rebellion to an end." His hand balls up and bursts into a ball of dark magick, which he launches our way, I roll out of the way of the energy beam only to hear Penelo cry out as she's flung back to a wall.

"Penelo!" Larsa cries, rushing to assist the unconscious girl.

"This is what you deserve for creating alliances with the weak!" Vayne bellows, easily toppling Ashe over to the ground.  _How long does he think his flailing will keep us down? He has fists; we wield blades._

"Stop trying to poison his mind!" I shout, jabbing at him with my lance. He evades quickly, sharply slamming the sole of his boot into my stomach. I collapse, wheezing and clutching my body. "He's too... brilliant for your... mind games," I force out, glowering up at him. "Haven't you noticed, Big Brother?" I grit my teeth when he grips my throat, lifting me into the air and throwing me back into the ground like I'm a ragdoll.

"It seems as though you only inherited life itself from the Solidor blood,  _mutt_."

"At least I admit to what I am," I counter, ignoring the hot trickle of blood that's started to run down the back of my neck. Vayne pushes Vaan back with a series of rapid strikes before turning to me with sharp eyes.

"I—"

He never finishes his sentence. The sword that pierces through the front of his body is pulled out and my brother, paler than usual, falls flat on his face, lifeless. Basch steps back, blood smeared across his forehead and eyes Ashe. Vaan rushes to pull me to my feet, concerned when I nearly lose my balance from being dizziness.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," I reply shortly. My voice is empty, cold.  _That was my moment... that was **my** vengeance,  **my** ending._

"Lord Brother!" Larsa cries, rushing toward Vayne's still body.

"Larsa!" Penelo protests, having been healed up by the boy and brought back to normal. A sudden bolt of electricity spikes through the air, capturing Larsa for merely a moment before throwing him to the floor with his brother. The bolt forces his body to twitch once more, jerking his muscles in odd directions. My heart stops.

" _No!"_

I shove my way out of Vaan's hold and run toward the fallen boy, skidding to a stop when a blood-red cloud begins to seep from his and Vayne's skin. The chancellor suddenly gasps for air, jerking upright and twitching, hidden by the heavy mist. Hesitant, I take a step back. Suddenly, the crimson fog bursts out in all directions and Vayne screams, flashes of electricity flickering throughout the cloud. I gasp, stumbling backward, startled. The force of the blast sends me flat on my ass; the others shield their faces until the mist fades. In place of Vayne stands a mass of twisted, bulging muscles.

"Manufacted nethicite!" Ashe calls.

Vayne's shirt has vanished, and his pants remain as armor, golden and gleaming. His hair hangs around his morphed face. A series of swords rushes around him in a circle, coming to a stop behind him as they wait for their use by their new master. Even his voice is odd when he speaks.

"Behold the power left me by our fallen friend." The nasty hit I took to the head took more than my balance away. I've lost all desire to drag this out.

"You sick  _fuck_ _!"_ I scream, panicked when I can't quite understand what's happened to Larsa. "What did you do to him?!"

"Gabranth," Vayne says, ignoring me and drawing our attention to the limping soldier to our right. "You will defend my brother. He will have need in the hell to follow." In response, Gabranth raises his sword.

"Yes, I will defend Lord Larsa!"

"The hound strays," Vayne scoffs. "Treason bears a price."

"One I gladly pay."

Vayne rushes toward us, enraged, but his feet never once touch the ground. He flies about quickly, carried by the same red mist that transformed him into the monstrosity that he's become. Physically, anyway. I suppose the outside finally matches the inside. The swords start to swarm, flurries of blades that slash at the nearest target. Fran immediately gets to word with magick spells, accompanied by the echoing crack of Balthier's gun.

I grip my spear in both hands, rushing forward and driving the weapon into Vayne's side. No longer guarded by armor, his flesh gives and a stream of blood flows from the gaping wound. I almost revel in my victory—but that's before one of the blades buries itself deep into my shoulder. I let out a soundless cry, striking the sword with the butt of my lance only to struck by Vayne and sent flying across the room. Before I can truly feel all the building pain, Penelo sends a hefty wave of healing magick my way.

Vayne gives a wave of his hand and the swords move to lash out at his more distant assailants. This gives Basch, Vaan, and Ashe the opportunity to rush in at my side. We deal as much damage as we can, slashing and stabbing with blades of all kinds. It's not until I hear a pained cry that I take a step back. My heart catches in my throat when I see that the flurry of six swords has ganged up on Balthier and Fran, hacking away.

Clenching my jaw, I sprint across the round room and muster as much strength as I can before bludgeoning two blades out of the way and sending them clattering to the floor across the room. Accompanying the clanging of metal hitting stone is a deafening crack that, at first, I perceive to be a shot from Balthier's gun. And then the whole back half of Dern's spear hits the ground. Fran beats another away with her bow; Balthier ducks under a slash that would've taken his head off, clutching his side as he runs. Basch hurries to take his place in assisting Fran.

"This bastard's tougher than I thought," Balthier grits, eyeing the blood that seeps between his fingers.

"You don't say," I scoff, still shaken by the broken weapon in my left hand.

I huff, looking up to call for Penelo only to be struck to the ground by one of Vayne's soaring, meaty fists. Stunned, I hardly have the chance to roll out of the way before he moves to attack again. Dizzily, I scramble to my feet only to be thrown forward onto my stomach. I twist around to jab at Vayne with what's left of my spear only to meet a flash of sparks as Gabranth's sword meets Vayne's gauntlets. One of Vayne's swords sails back around and slams into the side of the Judge's helmet, tearing off a third of the metal to reveal a portion of a face that matches Basch's exactly.

"Even a stray has pride!" Gabranth growls.

I drag myself away from the two, hoisted up and supported by Basch. My heading is spinning at a thousand miles an hour and I doubt anyone else is in much better shape. We're all bloodied and battered from being tossed about by Vayne's newfound power. With a shout, Vayne throws Gabranth away from him as if he weighs nothing. The Judge lands with a heavy thud, the remains of his helmet skittering away. Basch lets go of me to kneel at his brother's side.

"Here I pay my debt," Gabranth forces out. It feels wrong to think of such a name when the man's face is revealed. His hair is shorter than his brother's, pushed back from his face and he lacks the scar that Basch bears across his brow.

"Burn in Hell, Gabranth!" Vayne thunders waving for his swords to finish the Judge off. Rather than blood, though, I see a blinding light followed quickly by the blue glow of nethicite—nethicite that is held up in the small hand of Larsa Solidor. The Swords circle the stone before flickering out of existence. With a glimmer, the nethicite bursts and dissolves. Larsa flashes a smug smile at his shocked elder brother. Seeing a window of opportunity, Vaan dashes forward and snatches up Gabranth's sword, rushing at Vayne and sending him flying down the stairs.

Quickly, Penelo casts a healing spell and Vaan and Balthier rush after the fleeing leader of Archadia. Larsa sighs and falls to his knees; Penelo and I rush to his side. I fall to the ground, wincing when my slightly healed wounds throb in protest, and take his hand.

"You did good, Larsa," I reassure him, hand on his back.

"I... I hope I did," he stammers, eyes lost on some distant object.

"You did," Penelo nods. "You stopped him from killing Gabranth, and if you hadn't done that, we'd all be goners. Thank you."

"Y-yes, of course," Larsa nods, blinking out of his thoughts. "You'd best catch up to him, then. I will stay here with Gabranth."

As of cue, Basch strides by. Penelo stands to join him, hurrying to catch up to the others. I hesitate, pulling Larsa in toward my chest and holding him there tightly for as long as my impatience will allow. Sighing, I press a kiss to the top of his head, relishing in the feeling of holding this young boy as I watch him grow into the leading man he's meant to become. Of being allowed the chance to see him every day without fear of Vayne's wrath. Of being allowed to love my brother as he was meant to be loved by his own mother, the mother who never knew her husband's secret child. I swallow the lump in my throat and stand, wordlessly nodding my goodbye to him before taking off in a sprint to catch up.

I come to a dead stop behind the rest of the party, watching Vayne drag himself out onto the deck, clutching his side. The wind whips his dark hair around his broad, bulging shoulders as he stumbles along, lifting his face to the sky.

"Venat!" he bellows. Before him shimmers the gray, fallen Occuria that once served Balthier's father. "I've failed us both. I am no Dynast-King. You must find another. One who might realize your ambitions."

"They are fulfilled beyond your knowing," comes the distorted voice of Venat. "The Cryst is sundered, age of Stones complete. From the undying ones the world is freed. You shall not tread this path alone. Together we go. Come." Venat moves to the side and Vayne chuckles, moving closer the end of the balcony.

"Won't Cid be eager to learn what has happened here," he muses. "History begins anew..."

Venat disappears and bright, glittering gold lights begin to ripple across Vayne's back, sparking a bright flame across his skin. Streams of light burst forth, firing into the sky and swirling around his disfigured body.  _Shit_ _._ We should have ended him  _immediately._ The lights that burst from his skin soar toward overhead ships like missiles, leaving dozens of exploding airships bursting into flames and sailing toward the desert below. Vayne shouts waving his arm and sending out another spray of lights.

The flames engulf him and he screams, doubling over. I watch in horror as the light beams dive into portions of the ship and retrieve entire chunks of debris, building Vayne a new massive, armored body built with wings and talons. He soars up into the air, absorbing innumerable amounts of steel into his new form until he's nothing but a grotesque, twitching machine with the flesh of a man mashed in the middle.

With a final roar, he dives down toward the deck, flashing a disgusting grin at me as he catches my expression. Huffing, I secure the top of Dern's spear to my back and pull my mythril knife out of my boot, tracing a finger along the emblem carved into the side.  _After this, the Solidor crest will be nothing but a shame of the past._ A smile tugs at my lips.  _Fitting that it should be used on its previous owner._

Basch and Ashe immediately run at him with their swords, hacking away at the scrap metal that coats his body. I stand back with Vaan, waiting for him to come closer before attacking. Vayne flies out of the way easily, landing a few feet away and slamming his feet onto the ground. His eyes flash white and wind begins to whip around him, sending a wave of rubble our way. I dive behind a wall on the deck, hurrying back into the fight once the coast is clear. Bits of debris continue to whip about, knocking us around and creating little cuts across our skin.

I duck under a flying shard of ice and cut deeper into a tear created by Fran's arrow. Basch rips into the other side of Vayne's armor. An appendage reaches out to strike Ashe and she brings her blade down over it, leaving the enormous chunk of metal to cool on the ground. Vayne shrieks, batting at the princess. She cries out when she's flung to the ground across the balcony. Penelo rushes to her side and Balthier fires once more before letting Fran step in front of him to use another round of magick attacks.

Vayne slings out a blinding beam of white light. I grit my teeth, shielding my eyes and hoping that I'm not hit by anything while I'm preoccupied. My arm's cut open by a disc of one thing or another that flies by, but otherwise, I'm in good shape. The gashes in Vayne's metal case reach his skin now; we're down deep enough to do some real damage. Fran seems to realize this first, firing arrows into his chest in rapid succession. I rush past Ashe to get my hands dirty, slashing away at his exposed midsection. Blood begins to stain my hands far more literally than figuratively. It was likely Ashe's final blow that did him in.

Without the strength to hold himself down, Vayne's wings catch the wind and pull him into the air. The golden flames that created his new body ignite at his core, rippling across every surface touching his flesh. He writhes, trying to bat it out in a panicked state. In mere seconds, he's swallowed by the fire, screaming to the heavens. The metal that coats his body flies away piece by piece, tearing him apart that the seams. The flames turn to liquid, running over his skin and burning him alive. I can sense the buildup before it bursts; I grab anyone nearby and start sprinting toward any sort of shelter. The others follow blindly. Above, Vayne quite literally explodes, sending waves of fire and light across the sky.

The second the smoke clears, we emerge. I clutch the cut on my arm, looking up at the sky as if I might catch one more glimpse of my brother—of who he used to be. There's nothing but clouds, debris, and smoke. Not even a semblance of his body remains. I huff an empty laugh. Better there be nothing but ashes than something another corrupt Occuria could awaken. I look over to see Balthier hold out a fist to Fran. She bumps it with hers twice; I fight a smile.  _Those two never cease to impress me._ Penelo laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. A rush of overwhelming emotions hits me.  _He's dead. He's finally dead_.

The man who murdered our two older brothers, dead. The man who twisted the truth, forced my hand, and stole my joy, dead. The man who hunted me down and took the one I loved to bring him to death's door, dead.

Vayne Carudas Solidor... Dead.

Unable to control myself, I sprint across the deck and throw my arms around Balthier's neck, laughing and crying and choking on air. He chuckles, ignoring Vaan's mocking "kissy" sounds. Just as I pull away, Penelo gasps, alerting us all to a burning airship that speeds past overhead. I sigh, shoulders slumping. That's right; we're still stuck in the middle of a war zone. Ashe turns sharply on her heels and we follow suit, running at top speed back to the interior of the  _Bahamut._

~|~|~|~|~  
  


We only slow once we're in the  _Strahl_. Fran and Balthier throw themselves into the seats at the control panel, flicking switches and checking monitors. Vaan and I loom behind them, watching.

"Well? Can we fly?" Balthier asks, turning to look at Fran quickly.

"No fuel goes to the glossair engines," she replies, shaking her head.

"Damn!" Balthier leaps to his feet, quite literally shoving Vaan into the pilot's seat. "Vaan, you're in charge. I'm checking the engine room." He turns and motions to Fran. "Fran, with me!"

Something outside explodes, rocking the  _Strahl_ to the left sharply. I look up to see what caused the sudden interruption when a particularly alarming sight catches my eye.

"Balthier, the  _Bahamut's_ glossair rings are stopping!" I warn, turning back to face the sky pirate. He curses under his breath.

"Vaan! As soon as the  _Strahl's_ rings move, you take off. Understood?" Vaan nods hesitantly, settling into the pilot's seat slowly. "You  _can_ fly her, Vaan. Just do it like we told you."

"Don't worry," the thief nods. Balthier turns to me.

"I want him in the hot seat. Shae, you stay beside him and keep the ship in check."

"But—"

"Watch for interference from the  _Bahamut's_ skystone," Fran says, cutting me off and gently pushing me into the copilot's chair. "The  _Strahl's_ a fickle girl. You keep her working for us, understood?"

"Wait—"

With that, the two turn on their heels and rush out of the cockpit. I watch them go; my stomach sinks to my feet.  _That's not the engine room._ I leap out of the chair, wordlessly shoving Penelo into it in my place, and run after them.  _That's not..._

" _Balthier!"_ I practically scream over the sounds of the whipping winds outside. The sky pirate sighs, turning to face me just before he starts to step out of the  _Strahl._

"Fran," he says curtly, motioning with his head for her to keep going.

"What are you doing?" I demand, my heart pounding against my chest.

"I've got to fix those glossairs or this fortress is going to obliterate Rabanastre," he says in a rushed voice, starting toward the exit. I step in front of him, frowning.

"We don't have time for your heroics. There are ways to fix this from the air."

"But the easiest is from the inner workings. Now, if you could  _please—"_

"What are we to do if you're not back?"

"Leave without us. There ought to be ways—"

"You're going to get killed!"

"I will if I can't get there in time," he snaps, quickly losing his cool composure. "You know what this repair takes, Shera."

"I do, but I also know that this place is going to break down on top of you," I reply sharply. The briefest moment of panicked silence passes and I grab his shoulders, shaking him gently. "We've only just survived. I can't go losing you now." Something changes in his face and he sighs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. A hand brushes my hip.

"You won't. I need all the time I can get, and you're spending it. I've only got to twist a few things back into place, and then Fran and I will be back inside the belly of the  _Strahl._ " Quickly, Balthier pulls away from all contact, stepping around me and leaving.

"You swear you'll make your best effort to come back?" I call over the wind. He turns back, grinning.

"I swear it on Fran's life!"

"That's not reassuring," I huff, pressing the switch the close the hatch with trembling hands. Something about this does  _not_ feel right, but I couldn't afford to eat up any more of his time if I wanted them to have a chance at survival.

I turn and head back to the cockpit, stopping by Basch when I hear his brother speak from the bunk where he was laid. I kneel beside Larsa, resting a hand at the base of his back and listening to the brothers converse in silence.

"Basch... Look after Larsa, will you?" Gabranth forces out, his face smudged with dirt and soot. "If House Solidor should crumble, the Empire would fail and civil war would take us all."

"I understand," Basch nods, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Lord Larsa is our last hope," Gabranth says quietly, turning his eyes up to me. "You must do your part as well, Lady Shera. If Larsa should fall... I expect you'll take responsibility."

"Of course," I reply, dreading the day that would require me to do so.

"Take care of him..."

Larsa takes hold of the Judge's hand as the last of his life fades away. Basch watches his brother's last breath with no expression, but the sorrow in his eyes speaks volumes. From the other room, I hear Penelo exclaim something about the power returning. I leave the three to mourn their loss and head back into the cockpit, kneeling between the two seats at the control panel.

"How do we...?" Vaan starts to panic. I motion to a series of controls.

"These, remember? Fran taught you well; don't freak yourself out."

"Right. Grab on to something!"

I hang on to their seats as we lurch away from the  _Bahamut_ at full speed, shooting off into the sky. Ashe stands abruptly as soon as we level out.

"Basch, I need you to call off Imperial units as Gabranth."  _C'mon woman, he only just lost the guy and now he has to **be** him?_

"Of course," Basch nods, standing and reaching for the intercom system. I push myself up to my feet and hurry to help him make contact to the other ships' radios. The knight glances at his brother once more before turning away and facing the cockpit. "This is Judge Magister Gabranth!" he calls into the speaker, adjusting his voice the slightest bit to accommodate for his brother's acquired Imperial accent. "All quarters cease fire!" The  _Strahl_ turns abruptly, facing the  _Bahamut_ as we slow to a stop. "All units of the Archadian army, hold your fire! The battle is over! As of this moment, we have signed a cease-fire with Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, Her Royal Majesty." He turns and hands the speaker to Larsa, who takes it into a gloved hand with a grateful nod and a distant look in his eyes.

"Attention. This is Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. My brother Vayne has died with honor in battle. The Lady Shera Castean Solidor has declined the throne to me. The Imperial Fleet is now under my command!" I exchange can't help but smile at the boy. I've done far more than  _decline_ the throne. I suppose with formalities and all, he's forced to acknowledge my return, but I'm sure the troops already knew thanks to Vayne's master plans to hunt me down.

"This is Ashelia Dalmasca," Ashe says quickly, taking the speaker from Larsa's hands. "I confirm what Judge Magister Gabranth and Larsa Solidor have said here. Please, stand down your attack. The war is over. Ivalice looks to a new horizon. A new day has dawned. We are free!" Basch rests a hand on her shoulder as a sob chokes out whatever words she was to say next.

"Look Vaan, the  _Bahamut!"_ Penelo cries, pointing at the sky fortress. Small explosions ripple across the surface of the massive ship. The intercom system crackles to life once more, but's with an incoming message from another rather large ship.

"This is Judge Zargabaath, captain of the Alexander, flagship of the twelfth Dalmascan Fleet of the Archadian Army. I address all ships in Rabanstre's airspace. The  _Bahamut_ must not be allowed to fall on the city of Rabanastre!" My heart sinks.  _They never fixed the glossair rings... Balthier's not exactly known for leaving things unfinished..._ "All ships, concentrate your fire on the  _Alexander's_ remains once  _Bahamut_ is clear of the city. We've no choice but to ram the sky fortress."

"Hasty, aren't they?" I leap to my feet, snatching the speaker away from Ashe as Balthier's voice crackles over the system. "I think it's a little early to be throwing away our lives just yet."

"Balthier?" Vaan frowns, twisting around to face me. "Wait, Balthier, where are you?!" The sounds of falling rubble and crashing debris nearly cover his voice. 

"Ah, Vaan! Sounds like you made it out okay! The  _Strahl's_ a fine airship, eh?"

" _What does he think he's doing? Balthier!"_ the Marquis cries over the same wavelength.

"Marquis! Stop that fool Judge on the  _Alexander_ for me, would you? Just getting somewhere with these glossair rings. Almost done! Don't want him ramming me before I fix them, do we?" Another crash echoes in the background and he coughs.

"Balthier! Do you understand exactly what it is you're doing?" Ashe demands, watching the  _Bahamut_ continue to break to pieces.

"Princess! No need to worry."

"But we  _do_ , you idiot!" I snap, glaring at the sky fortress he ran off to. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Pardon me, Shae, but I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man?" There's a pause and a gentle clink of metal against metal. "He never dies."

"Besides! He's got me!"

" _Jonan?!"_ I practically shriek. _What the hell has this turned into?!_  "Get out of there!"

"I figured I could help them out while I was in town," the boy replies calmly. All across the  _Bahamut,_ lights turn on and the rings begin to spin back to life.

"Let's fly!" Balthier cheers. "Fran! Power to the glossair rings... Fran?"

"What's wrong?" I ask, dread filling my stomach with lead.

"Just a bump!" Jonan calls. "She's down, Balthier."

"Do I have to do everything around here?" Balthier grumbles.

"Listen to me, Balthier," Ashe pleads, her voice trembling. "Get out of the  _Bahamut_ immediately!  _Please_ Balthier! You mustn't die!"

"I'd say you're in more of a supporting role," comes Fran's soft voice.

"Fran, please. Vaan! The  _Strahl's_ in your hands! You'd better take care of her, you hear? If there's one scratch on her when I get back—"

"Roger that," Vaan nods.

"No, don't roger that!" I protest. "Balthier, what are you  _doing!?_ You're going to get them killed! _"_

"Why, making my marvelous escape, Princess. Every leading man needs a few under his belt."

"This isn't a game! Jonan, why the  _hell_ —"

"We'll be waiting for you," Vaan says, ignoring me.

"We don't have to wait!" I snap, trying to shove my way to the front of the ship. "We can still go back!"

"Shae," Basch says, pulling back on my arm.

"Relax, Shera," Balthier shouts over the sounds of the  _Bahamut_ collapsing. "And do me a favor and check your sash. I believe I forgot something important." With that, another fiery explosion cuts out our connection.

"Wait!" I cry helplessly, clinging to the speaker. "Balthier!" Ashe presses her lips together, shaking her head. "Jonan!" The ship swerves to the right just as the base of the  _Bahamut_ hits the ground, the rest of the ship slowly collapsing to the ground and pulverizing itself to bits.  _"No!"_ I make another lunge for the cockpit, only to be thrown back by Basch.

"They'll make it out!" Vaan reassures me.

"No, they won't!" I protest, kicking at the knight that pulls me away. "That's why Jonan's  _there!"_ That seems to catch their attention; five pairs of eyes turn to me in confusion. "He needed to make everything right," I force out, glowering at each person. "To go out with a bang... That's all he wanted, in the end, if it meant he'd gone out doing the right thing."

"... Balthier said to check your sash," Penelo says after a moment. "What's there?"

Hesitantly, I reach down to the brightly colored sash that hangs off my left leg, feeling around in the fabric.  _There's nothing th... Oh._ I take hold of the small object, carefully lifting it up into the light. It's a simple handkerchief, white and smudged with a little dirt. On one corner is a lopped, embroidered "b" for Balthier.  _Why's it bunched up like this?_

"That was his promise to me that he'd bring Vaan back," Penelo smiles, and everyone seems to breathe the slightest sigh of relief. I don't reply, pulling back the bunched edges of the cloth. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath caught in my throat. Finally, I uncover an object so simple and yet so  _beyond_ words that I startle myself by clapping a hand over my mouth.

"What is it?" Larsa asks, curiosity sparked by my reaction.

"It's—" I shake my head, unable to speak through my tightened throat. It all hits me at once, from our time in the  _Strahl_ to our very last interaction, the last chance I had to see, hear, feel him  _alive._ Trembling, I choke on a strangled sob, clutching the cloth tightly.

"A ring?" Basch frowns, not quite sure of the implications behind the simple vermillion band. I take a shuddering breath, broken completely to pieces as a stream of tears drips from my chin to the floor.

"Hold on, that's a weird way to propose," Vaan half-teases, grinning at me. Another sob rattles my slumped shoulders. I shake my head.

"... He's not coming back."

I turn sharply on my heels and escape to the only sanctuary I know of on this blasted ship, rushing past Gabranth's lifeless body with bleary vision. I hurl the cabin door open and slam it shut behind me, throwing myself onto the unmade bed before letting it all out.  _Dern._  Shaking, choking, sobbing, coughing.  _Fran._  I pull the blankets up over my head, burying my face into the pillow at the head of the bed.  _Jonan._ I choke on another bout of tears, letting them fall without shame in the bed that no longer belongs to anyone. _Balthier..._

I press my face into the pillow and scream, long and loud, until my throat's raw and I'm too lightheaded to do anything but breathe. I roll over, smelling nothing but machine oil and sandalwood, and toy with Balthier's ring, watching the sunlight reflect off the shifting shades of orange.  _I'm cursed._  I knew this day would come.

I'd tried to ready myself for it. But I was fool, and instead of keeping my treasure locked away, I handed over my heart on a silver platter. All I received, in turn, was a shattered mess of blood and pain with a side of memories that once brought tears to my eyes from laughter, not from agonizing sorrow. But what did I expect? I'm just a runaway—those who drop everything they love and head off on their own selfish volition don't deserve happiness. All they get is what they fight for.

Vengeance, sorrow, loneliness. 


	52. Epilogue

~One Month Later~

I've yet to get out of bed, and it's late in the evening. My stomach's crying for food, but I haven't had to energy nor the will to eat in nearly five days. I drink water only when the pain becomes unbearable, but even then, I nearly throw it all up again. Penelo stopped by with fresh flowers and bread earlier; she spoke gingerly as if she was afraid of breaking me. Perhaps she was right to do so. The last time Vaan said that  _cursed_  name, he left with a black eye, a bloody nose, and cut that left a nasty scar across his forearm. Groaning, I turn over in my sheets, trying to cool off.

Ashe made sure to provide us all with places to stay for as long as we needed. Vaan and Penelo, of course, rejected her offer. Apparently, they live with that crazed bangaa that came into the tavern demanding that some sky pirates save Penelo.  _Shit_ _. That was centuries ago._ Two weeks ago, Basch trimmed his hair short and headed to Archadia to act as Gabranth in his brother's place. I know it's all to protect Larsa, but... To play your brother's part for the rest of your days? It sounds like misery. I was supposed to leave with them, but I wasn't deemed well enough, and Basch was convinced that leaving everyone I knew and staying in Archadia, the very place that brought me all my pain, would only make me worse.

But does he have to see the monument of his dead brother every time he gathers enough strength to leave his room? 

The remains of the  _Bahamut_ tower outside Rabanastre as some "exciting memory" for the people of Dalmasca. For myself, however, it's a painful reminder that slaps me in the face every time I leave my small apartment atop an armor shop deep into the city. Since the incident with Vaan, I haven't seen him much. Penelo drops by often. Ashe, of course, can't be bothered to see me because of all the details she and Larsa have to iron out. I understand, of course. She's to be queen and I'd rather she not see me in this sorry state anyway. Unable to move, eat, drink, or wash simply over a heart that's been battered too many times to stitch itself back together.

Three times, a fist beats against my door. The knocks are loud and clear, but I don't answer. It's too late for visitors; it's pitch black outside. Three more knocks. I sigh, closing my eyes and praying that they'll leave me be. Unfortunately, this person seems to be the persistent type. Rather than continuing their polite knocks, they beat their fist against the door rapidly, nonstop.  _Are you joking?_ I huff, sitting up and throwing my blankets to the side before standing and hobbling to the next room where the front door is. They haven't stopped. Cursing under my breath, I tidy up my hair a touch and throw open the door. My heart stops at the sight of a sheepish smile.

"Hey, Shae. How's it going?" My hand  _burns_ after how hard my palm strikes his cheek, leaving behind a bright red mark. He looks shocked, bright blue eyes wide, unsure of my rage. "Well damn, okay, thought you'd be happier to see me." He holds up two bottles of madhu. "I brought us a little something."

"... Get inside."

Jonan nods obediently, stepping past me stiffly. Dozens of tight bandages cover his skin, and there are twice as many scars to go with them. He doesn't bend his left knee as he makes his way to the rough-cut wooden table, keeping it straight even when he sits, waiting expectantly. With trembling hands, I close and lock the door. I make my way to the seat across from him slowly, unsure if I've truly lost my mind.

"First of all, I'd like to know what that was for," Jonan starts, flashing a half-hearted smile as the handprint on his face begins to glow an angry bright red.

"I'm... not sure," I reply, carefully taking the glass bottle he offers me. "It was an instinct."

"Weren't expecting to see me?" I shake my head, watching him take a drink. The bottle hits the table with a dull thud and Jonan shrugs, chewing on his cheek. "I wasn't expecting to be here this late. I'm sorry about that."

"I wasn't going to sleep anyway," I mutter. He frowns, but there's something understanding about the look on his face. I finally muster up enough strength to take a drink. The familiar taste of madhu brings comfort for half a second—and then I remember Balfonheim, the  _Castean,_ the Bunansa brothers. I swallow quickly, trying to fend off my nausea with deep breaths. "How did you survive?"

"Where to begin?" Jonan leans back in his seat, running a hand through his fair hair. "You remember most of the conversation over the radio, right?" I nod. "The blast before we left the scene knocked Fran out. Balthier had to carry her out of the ship; he wouldn't let me do it, and that slowed us down quite a bit. I ran ahead and found an abandoned ship we could use to escape. She was battered, but she would still fly. I got in the cockpit and took off, assuming that they had gotten on since I heard some noises in the back." He swallows hard, staring at the table. "I crash-landed in the sea on my way to Balfonheim."  _Why were you headed so far away?_ "I was badly injured and I could hardly swim, but some sea pirates rescued me. I'd made one last round on the ship before swimming to the surface." He looks up at me, his eyes flooded with guilt. "They weren't there, Shae." I shake my head, playing with my bottle.

"I know they're gone," I reply, my voice hardly more than a hoarse whisper. "I've tried coming to terms with it, but I can't help but feel hope that they made it out." My breaths are shuddering, my body fighting tears it can't afford to shed. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."

"But—" He straightens so suddenly that his chair hits the floor sharply. I jump; he takes my hands. "There's always a chance, isn't there? He's so full of himself and his leading man charade, there's no way he'd just  _die_."

"He  _was_ ," I correct bitterly, pulling away from his touch. "How did you get here?"

"My ship was destroyed on the  _Bahamut,_ but I was able to take a commercial ship here. I found your location through Vaan and, well, here I am." He eyes me carefully, pursing his lips. "I know you won't appreciate my concern because I know you all too well, but I can't help asking. How are you doing, Shae?"

"I'm alive," I shrug.

"Barely." He stands, coming around the side of the table and kneeling before me to take my hands again. "You look starved. I've never seen someone look so exhausted." His hand brushes my cheek; I flinch. "What makes you think Balthier would want this for you?"

" _I said I wouldn't talk about him!"_  I scream, leaping to my feet and shoving him to the floor. Breathless and panicked, I pull at the roots of my hair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"Shera—"

" _Don't call me that!"_ I launch the nearest object at him, enraged. Penelo's vase bounces off his raised arms and shatters on the floor, broken bits of glass skittering across the ground. Unable to catch my breath, I slump against the rough clay wall and cross my arms. Slowly, Jonan climbs to his feet, taking a deep breath and gingerly walking toward me.

"I'm sorry, Shae. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not fragile," I snap, but my voice is weak and the tears pooling in my eyes are less than convincing.

"I know you're not," he replies quietly, stopping in front of me, hands tucked into his pockets. "You're the strongest person I know. But you're also broken. You need time to heal. You need  _help_ to heal." Offering his winning smile, he scratches at the back of his neck. "You've got plenty of people willing to be there. Just let them in the first time they knock, hm?"

I can't hold back the waterworks any longer; I throw my arms around his neck and spill tears into the rough material of his canvas shirt, sobbing uncontrollably. His arms are warm and sturdy, comforting in a place where nothing but stabbing pain reigns.

"I miss them," I whisper, shaking. "Fran and Balthier... I miss the snide comments and the teasing and the stupid secret looks they used to exchange..." I sniff, shaking my head. "I don't know how I'll make it this time. They were the ones that saved me after Dern."

"I know," he murmurs, tracing a circular pattern on my back. "I know..."

~Two Months Later~

I pace restlessly up and down the hallway, only further stressed as Jonan watches with crossed arms as if nothing's amiss. The doors are locked tightly; there's no way to speed this up.  _Why's this so hard?_ I should just throw my title about and demand that they speed it up before I have their heads lopped off. But... There's no respect for the runaway ruler of Archadia, no desire to keep the shamed sky pirate any longer than they must.

"Calm down," Jonan huffs after I make my fourteenth circle. "It won't make them come back quicker. I'm sure he's just busy."

"Too busy for  _me?_ " I snap. "I'd keep your mouth shut if you want to survive the flight back."

Before the young man can reply, the doors at the front of the hall are thrown open by the Imperial soldier than nearly turned us down at the door.

"Lord Larsa will see you now."

I hardly wait for him to finish speaking before sprinting out onto the stone balcony, dazzled by the bright colors and fresh smells of the gardens that grace Larsa's outdoor office space. Across the cobblestone floor stands my younger brother, looking happier than he has in a  _very_ long time. I drop to my knees and hug him tightly, crushing him against me.

"Miss!" bellows the soldier. Jonan shoves him out into the hall and slams the doors in his face.

"Fuck  _off,_ man," he scoffs, waiting for me at the door.

"I'm happy to see you," I murmur, letting the boy go. He beams, brushing his long hair behind his ear.

"I'm glad you're doing better, Sister," he says. I refuse to let my smile falter. "So much has happened since I last saw you."

"So I've heard," I nod, getting to my feet. "Your letters are practically nonsensical, you know. It all goes over my head."

"My apologies. I'll try to limit my words to lay terms," he replies smoothly, flashing a sly smile. I roll my eyes.

"Where's Basch?"

"Right here." I look up to see a towering figure dressed in heavy layers of steel armor. Two gloved hands reach up and pull off a horned helmet to reveal the gentle giant I was hoping to see. I laugh, shaking my head.

"How's my brother treating you? Do I need to beat him up for anything?"

"There's no need," he chuckles, glancing down at Larsa. "He's a bright young man. Noah was right to put his faith in the boy."

"I appreciate it," Larsa replies simply, heading over to his desk and sitting down. "The new Senate is almost in place. After that, I shall be elected the new Emperor of Archadia." He sighs, look up at me. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? Not much time has passed." He tugs at one of the fingers of his white gloves. "When is Lady Ashe's coronation?"

"A little less than a year from now." I cross my arms, throwing a hip out to the side and looking over at Basch. "We're all expected to attend as guests of honor, you know."

"So I've been told."

"She misses having you around," I add, shrugging. "You two seemed close."

"We are. However, our duties are across the map from each other," Basch says simply. "My purpose is here and hers lies in Dalmasca."

"Too bad," I shake my head before turning back to Larsa. "Now, down to real business. Why've I been called here?"

"Of course," Larsa nods. "I know you said you'd rather not be involved in this government in any way. However, I'm in need of one more Senator, and an intermittent one at that. You'd only have to show for meetings once, maybe twice a quarter, and perhaps emergency gatherings." He sighs, looking over at Basch. "I admit, it would be nice to see you around more often."

"..." I take a deep breath, shaking my head. "You know I can't do that, Larsa."

"But you  _can._ "

"No, I can't. I'm not fit for leadership, nor am I fit for traveling across Ivalice as often as I need to. A Senator should be based here where they can be contacted at a moment's notice. I appreciate the offer, but there's no need." I press my palms to his desk, leaning down to catch his eye. "I'll come around as often as you need me, but it will be as your  _sister,_ not as your imaginary superior."

"Of course," he nods, standing and placing his hands over mine. "I understand. Do me a favor, then."

"What is it?"

"Recover," he smiles. "Take time to let your mind refresh. I can tell when you're faking your happiness, dear sister." He looks past me to the door. "Jonan!"

"Yeah?"

"Take her back to Rabanastre and make sure she gets plenty of rest. You're needed elsewhere."

"That I am," Jonan laughs, looking at me. "Ready to go already?"

"Of course not," I scoff, looking back at Larsa as Balthier's words ring through my head.  _I told you, I enjoy the pleasantry of good food._ "What's for dinner?"

~Four Months Later~

"You're being ridiculous!" I snap, glowering at Vaan. "If they're alive, why haven't they come to see us yet?"

"They have to be busy!" Vaan tries to reason with me, but I cut him off.

" _No_. Quit waving that note around in my face and get back to Penelo. Someone's stolen the  _Strahl_ and played a sick joke on you." I take a quick drink of madhu. "Open your eyes."

"No,  _you_ open your eyes!" Vaan shouts, slamming his hand on the table. Several patrons in the tavern turn to stare at us. "This is his handwriting! He says he and Fran are in Bervenia waiting for us!"

"Yeah? Go, then! Go there and get stolen away by some crazy bastards! Play the fool!" I stand up so abruptly that my chair hits the stone floor with an echoing clatter.

"He says he found treasure in the Cache of Glabados," Vaan reads off the leaflet of paper.

"It's all  _lies,_ don't you see it!?"

"But it's not!"

"But it  _is."_ I snatch the paper out of his hand and rip it to shreds, letting the bits of flutter to the floor as he watches, filled more anger than I knew him to be capable of. "Go chase your fairytales elsewhere," I hiss, snatching my bottle of madhu and storming out the door into the dimly lit streets of Rabanastre. He rushes to the doorway, yelling after me.

"Quit lying to yourself! This is the same thing you did with Dern!"

"Fuck off!" I call over my shoulder.

"What're you so afraid of!?"

"I'm not afraid," I snap, resisting the urge to beat him to a pulp when he runs up to my side. "I don't want you and Penelo chasing dreams only to be let down."

"Why don't you come with us?" he suggests, tugging at my sleeve. I elbow him away. "We'd have extra protection  _and_ you'd be able to see them again!"

"Leave me be, Vaan."

"Why won't you?" he demands. "You love him, don't you? Then go see him." I stop dead in my tracks, gaze falling to the rough sandstone street.

"Loved," I correct. "He and Fran are dead. If I believed otherwise, I'd be the first to go after them."

"Let us take you," Vaan pleads. "You're not doing anything anyway."

"I'm sorry, Vaan," I say coldly, continuing my walk home. "I don't chase rumors anymore."

"Fine!" he shouts, stomping his foot on the ground angrily. "When  _we_  see him, we'll let him know you were too busy  _screwing Jonan_  to visit!"

Vaan goes home with two black eyes that night.

~Four Months Later~

Vaan and Penelo never left. The ship they'd acquired had far too many problems for a trip that long, and so they'd been forced to stay grounded. Vaan and I haven't spoken on friendly terms since the night he dragged me out to a tavern to dig up the old hopes that I'd buried long ago. Since then, I've spent every day in the same state I was in the first month of grieving. I can't eat, I can't move, I can't speak. I sent Jonan on his way ages ago; I couldn't stand to see the helplessness in his eyes any longer.

Today, however, is different. It's Ashe's coronation, and I'm expected to be in perfect shape by noon. As if on cue, two light knocks come to the door. I call for the visitor to enter. Penelo skips into the room, her pigtails waving about as she flounces about with her arms covered in colorful drawings of flowers and crystals. Her clothes are brightly colored and silky, a perfect match for the girl. She carries a deep green dress as though it's a doll, draping it over a nearby chair and turning to me with a grin. Vaan comes into the apartment less than happily; I can't bring myself to be angry at him any longer.

"Ready?" Penelo asks, beaming. "You're going to look so pretty!"

"You're certain I can't wear something of my own?" I ask, frowning at the dress.

"Of course you can't, silly! Ashe specifically told me to get you into this thing."

"Of course she did," I huff, rolling my eyes.

"You'll look just like the princess you were meant to be," she teases, pulling me off my seat. "Go put it on and brush your hair so I can braid it."

I scoff, picking up the dress. Vaan offers a smile and I roll my eyes, nodding toward Penelo. His grin only grows. I head to my bedroom and shut the door behind me firmly. The mirror's been turned around since I moved in; I twist it to face me, frowning at my hollowed cheeks and bony joints.  _Let's hope Ashe sized this down._ I unclasp the back of the simple item of clothing and pull my baggy clothes off before stepping in and pulling it up. The smooth green material is skin tight. The sleeves reach my wrists and the skirt nearly reaches the floor, cut with a slit up the left leg. My skin is cold where there's a large hole in the back that extends from my shoulder blades to the base of my spine. I scoff, staring at my reflection.  _At least I didn't lose too much in the **important** places._

I pull my hair out of its messy braid (one that I'm positive I did  _days_ ago; I don't have any concept of time anymore, truthfully) and run my fingers through it quickly before heading back out into the living room. Penelo cheers, shaking Vaan excitedly.

"It looks so good!"

"You're sure I don't look ridiculous?" I raise an eyebrow. Vaan shakes his head.

"No, you look good."

"Come on, let's go," Penelo gushes, turning me around and pushing me back to my room. "I've got something for your hair."

She forces me to sit in a seat in front of the mirror as she fixes my hair so that I don't look like I'm emerging from a cave for the first time in weeks. I'm lucky my mother's dark complexion was handed down to me, otherwise I'd look paler than Larsa and Vayne combined. The girl pulls a long golden chain from her pocket, weaving it along the braid as she goes. I exchange uncomfortable looks with Vaan, relieved to return to a semblance of normality. Finally, she steps back, proud of her work.

"Perfect."

"Thanks," I mutter, eyeing a glittering strand of gold that catches the light. I stand to move my chair back to the table when Vaan stops me.

"Wait. You weren't wearing that the last time I saw you."

"Pardon?"

"That ring. It's Balthier's, isn't it?" he asks, eyeing the newest addition to my collection of wearable tragedies.

"Yeah," I nod, uncomfortably meeting Penelo's gaze. "I figured it's about time since it's been a year and all."

"I'm glad," she smiles softly, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. "I wish he could see you today."

"Why's that?" I scoff, silently protesting when Vaan carries the chair back for me.

" _Because_ ," Penelo says as if I should already know. "If he thought you were pretty in your normal clothes, he should see you now!"

"Damn, you really are playing it up," I huff, shaking my head with a slight smile despite the stinging in my chest.  _She's really trying._

"Well it won't matter if we're late," Vaan points out, peering up at the sun through the window. "We should probably get over to the palace soon."

"Probably," I repeat reluctantly, pulling on the shoes Penelo forces into my hands and hurrying after them. "Why doesn't  _Vaan_ have to look nice?"

"Because he'd rather look like a dirty pirate," Penelo scoffs, shooting Vaan a disapproving look. He only grins back. "Besides, Ashe wanted you to wear that."

"To make sure she and Larsa look good," I reply, arching an eyebrow. "I'm the middleman between the two of them."

"I know, but it's just a dress and it's for, like, four hours."

"Yeah, Shae, it's just for four hours!"

"Careful," I snap at Vaan.

~|~|~|~|~

The ceremony seems to last an eternity. Ashe looks like an angel sent by the gods with her long, flowing white gown. Basch and Larsa stand to her left; for once, the knight's allowed to ditch the extensive armor. Penelo, Vaan, and I stand to her right, looking over the overwhelming crowd. Thousands of people watch from the ground, having traveled from all over Ivalice to see the crowning of the new queen of Dalmasca. Old men and women drone on and on about tradition and Dalmasca and Dynast-Kings; it all goes over my head. In Archades, we just kill everyone in our way and usurp the throne. No formalities, really. I blink out of my thoughts when the crowd erupts into cheers and Vaan starts to tug me down to join the swarms of people.

I suppose we left to see the official crowning from below. Ashe is positively beaming as she's proclaimed the ruler of Dalmasca at last. More excited screams and clapping burst from the people surrounding us. Vaan laughs as Penelo pulls him into a crushing hug.

"Shae, look!" I turn to see what Vaan's pointing at, but he and Penelo have vanished completely.  _What the...?_

Frowning, I elbow my way through congratulating people, trying to spot two heads of blonde hair. There's nothing. Huffing, I turn back to the palace to see Ashe and Basch conversing.  _Of course they're being as polite as humanly possible._ I roll my eyes, unfazed as people jostle me about.  _Where'd those two brats go?_  In the midst of all the physical contact, I'm not entirely bothered when I feel something brush my waist. At least, not until the touch doesn't leave; rather, it holds me in place as someone pulls me back into them. I grip the hands at my hips, prepared to kick a creep's ass.

"You know, it would have been kind to let the queen be the most stunning woman at her own coronation." My breath catches in my throat and my grip tightens.  _There's no way..._ "Then again, I never knew you to be the considerate type." I swivel around quickly, feeling my heart skip multiple beats.  _This is a joke._ I reach up gingerly, tracing a finger down his cheek to make sure he's  _truly_ there.  _I'm dreaming._ He arches an eyebrow, cracking half a smug smile. "You alright, Princess?" Lost for words, I pull him close and bury my face in the crook his neck.

Motor oil and sandalwood.  _He's real._

"Damn," Balthier chuckles, pulling away long before I'm ready to. "Penelo said you hadn't been eating, but I wasn't expecting you to be  _that_ sharp."

"You've spoken to Penelo?" I ask in disbelief. He rests his hands on his hips, elbowing a few people by accident.

"Yes. I met up with her and Vaan at the Sandsea last night."

"What?" My heart sinks.

"Don't give me that look," he chastises. "I have a surprise for you."

"This wasn't it?" I scoff, hands shaking when I move to tuck my hair behind my ear. I look past him, frowning. "Where's Fran?"

"She, unfortunately, had some business with the viera to take care of," he replies, watching me nod. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"What did you expect!" I snap, but it's out of excitement, not anger. "You've been  _dead_ for a  _year!"_

"Not quite," he laughs, turning to lead the way out of the crowd. Careful not to lose him, I take hold of his elbow, clinging tightly until we're onto the road. "Fran and I spent quite some time recovering, and after that, we found some treasure." He shoots me an amused glance. "Vaan tells me you beat him up for showing you my note."

"I thought it was a sick joke," I mutter, wincing when my stomach growls at the smell of the food street vendors are starting to set out. I feel dazed, as if everything's moving in slow motion around us. I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this is  _real._

"So I heard." Balthier steps around a group of playing children, sighing when I nearly trip over a little girl. "Watch your step, Shera."

"Shera?!"

"Is that  _Lady Shera?!"_

"It has to be! She looks like Lord Larsa!"

"Godammit, Balthier," I hiss, pressing myself closer to his side. "Look what you've done. We agreed that you wouldn't call me that anymore."

"I can't help myself," he replies simply.

"You'd better learn," I huff, eyeing the group of people that begun to stare.

"For the record," he mutters, lowering his head to my ear. "You don't look like Lord Larsa."

"I'm aware," I laugh, shoving his face away. "Where are we headed?"

"You can't tell after living here so long?"

"I can't see  _through_ people, Balthier."

"Well, then this will be more of a surprise than you bargained for." Balthier nods to a man who calls his name from a stand, though he keeps moving, clearly not wanting to linger and catch up. The towering viera in front of me finally turns left and I realize that we're heading into the aerodrome. The woman at the front desk lets Balthier pass without a second glance. He pulls me to the right and down a corridor where the landing strips are.

"Are you planning to kidnap another princess?" I scoff, teasing. He hums, glancing down at me.

"I'd hardly have to kidnap you to rescue you from this dump. Damsel in distress and all, hm?"

"I'm not—!"

"Now," he cuts me off, pulling away from me to block my view. "Close your eyes."

"You're joking," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not," he reassures me. "Close them."

"Fine, fine," I huff, deciding to play along with his silly little game. There's a long silence; I can tell he's still here. "Bal—" I'm cut off by a quick kiss. "What the  _hell?_ "

"My apologies," Balthier chuckles, walking away. "I couldn't help myself."

"Mhm. How much longer?"

"Just a moment."

I hear the click of a switch and the sound of the door leading to the airstrip raising. Quick steps return to my side as wind begins to pull at the fabric of Ashe's  _gracious_ donation. I jump when a hand touches my back. Balthier sighs, using his other hand to cover my eyes.

"Relax; I don't bite."

"I don't trust you," I mutter, taking slow steps forward at his prodding. "You plan to throw me to my death, then?"

"What sort of a man do you think I am?" Balthier retorts. I can just  _see_ the mocking expression on his face.

"One who can't help himself, apparently."

"I'm trying my best." He pulls me to a stop, lowering his head down beside mine. "Now, Jonan, Fran, and I spent a lot of time on this—it's why I couldn't see you sooner."

"What are you talking about?" I pause. " _Jonan_  knew you were  _alive?!"_

"You'll see. Open up, Princess."

"Excuse me?"

"Your eyes, darling. We'll worry about the rest later."

"Whore," I huff, pulling his hand away from my eyes and wincing when the sunlight nearly blinds me. I blink away the pain, gasping upon seeing something I thought was a creation of the past. Before me looms the  _Castean,_ fully repaired and prepared for the skies. Her outer shell gleams with the bright coloration Dern originally picked out for her, her engines are updated, and her windows are no longer shattered.

"I must say, I was impressed by her inner workings. You and Adamar made quite the team."

"It was all him," I say in a hushed voice, brushing my fingers over the ship's smooth surface.

"Nonsense," Balthier retorts. "I saw your designs."

"Designs?" I start to head to the front of the ship, feeling all her grooves and edges.  _She's perfect._ My face grows hot when I realize where he would have found those.

"Yes, on the sketchpad in your cabin? There were some rather...  _interesting_ pieces to accompany the models, I must say."

"Gods, Balthier," I cringe, trying to wipe away my memories of those sketches. I peer up at the  _Castean's_ folded wings, spying the glimmer of glowing skystones. I crack a smile; he kept the original jagd stones that Dern invented. "You kept the prototypes in." There's no response. "Balthier?"

Nothing but the silence I've heard for the past year.

"Balthier?!" I hurry back around to the other side of the ship and see nothing. My heart pounds relentlessly; I can't breathe.  _He couldn't have left me already...?_ " _Balthier!"_

"I'm right here; calm down." Balthier calls, coming around the corner of the aerodrome and reentering the airstrip.

"You gave me a heart attack!"

"Thought I'd left you again?" he teases, brushing my hair out of my face. In his other hand, I see something odd.

"What's that?"

"Another piece of the puzzle, of course," he replies, holding up Dern's spear, repaired as if nothing ever happened. "Good as new, hm?"

"What the  _shit_ is going on?" I laugh, taking the weapon from his hands. "It's not like you to shower me with gifts,  _Ffamran._ "

"I'm only returning your belongings." 

I roll my eyes, pulling him down by his collar and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

"And here's your reward, Leading Man."

"Hm," he hums, allowing a slight smile. It falls rather quickly. "No need to panic, Shae, but I've another matter to attend. I'll return to you this evening."

"Where are you going?" I frown.

"To take care of some simple business. Vaan showed me where you're staying; I'll find you when I'm done."

"Promise?"

"Of course." He steps away, looking back over his shoulder as he leaves. "I swore I'd survive, didn't I?"

"Not quite," I scoff, resisting the overwhelming urge to chase after him and beg him to let me come with. That way it doesn't feel like I imagined it all.  _He's alive._ I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and shake my head. I'll need to kick Jonan's ass next time I see him. The door at the end of the hangar slams shut and I shiver, goosebumps rippling across my skin.

I never knew how much I feared loneliness until I lost him.

~|~|~|~|~

It's long past midnight by the time I stop pacing back and forth with my hands clasped behind my back.  _He's not coming back,_ I decide, feeling all my heightened hopes and lifted spirits sink through the floor. Trying to numb myself by feigning apathy, I switch off the dim lights on my walls and flop into my bed. It's all too easy to roll up into my blankets and pretend that I was only just asleep, that the butterflies, the adrenaline, and the warmth were all memories from the past. That the feeling I can only describe as  _love_ isn't real.

It's long past the point when I drifted off to sleep when a series of thuds and thumps rudely slaps me awake. Startled, I sit up abruptly, flicking on the lamp beside my head and gripping the dagger I hide under my pillow. Immediately, I relax. Sprawled on the floor is Balthier, who glowers at the dresser that's collapsed beside him. With a sour expression, he looks up at me.

"It felt much sturdier before I stood on it."

"It's missing a leg," I laugh, pulling back my blankets to shut the window. He shakes his head, waving me back to bed as he stands and heads toward the sliding pane of glass. "Why'd you come through  _there?_ The door's unlocked."

"I figured this might be quicker," he replies distantly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I was ready to  _stab_ you!"

"How was I to know that?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Mistakes were made; do me a favor and don't mention them to anyone, Fran especially."

"It all depends," I shrug. I let go of the dagger and cross my legs, watching him as he looks around my rather bare bedroom. "I may need blackmail someday."

"Who doesn't?" he mutters. "What in Ivalice are you doing living in this dump?"

"I didn't exactly have anywhere else to go," I remind him. "You've only just repaired my home."

"Saved you again, then," he teases.

"I didn't exactly make an effort to make it look better," I sigh, playing with my hair. "All I've done here is lay in bed all day."

"Feeling lazy?"

"Depressed is more like it," I scoff with a sarcastic laugh, hugging my knees to my chest. Balthier frowns, but he continues his observations. "I couldn't eat or really sleep for that long. It took far too much energy to leave at any point. The few times I have left were to visit Larsa and Basch or to speak with Vaan, and even that was just in the tavern down the road."

"You really are a piece of work, aren't you?" he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from the tall mirror and looking at me. I shrug, suddenly feeling anxious.  _He probably doesn't see me the same way._ The sky pirate sighs. "I'm assuming Jonan flew you to Archades?"

"Yes," I nod, tracing the faint pattern on my crimson sheets with my finger. "He dragged me to see the Phon Coast a few times, too. It's where he grew up, after all. I only wanted him to be happy."

"... I see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown, looking up at him. He shakes his head, glancing down at the bed.

"And he stayed here?"

" _Oh._ " I straighten, catching his gaze. "He always stayed on the couch; he wasn't allowed in here, ever. For the first time in a while, nothing happened between us. I really think he's changed, or at least understood his wrongs."

"That's a relief," he replies, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt.

"Jealous, are we?" I tease, cocking my head to the side. "It's too bad that I had to find comfort in the arms of another man." Balthier arches an eyebrow in response. "All you had to do was show your face for a  _moment_ in time. But no, you stayed back to work on your surprises and Jonan got to spend more time with  _me_."

"To be frank, Jonan was spending time with  _you_ because he was shirking his duties with  _me_ ," he says, looking the slightest bit annoyed. I get the feeling his irritation isn't directed at me. "I sensed a bit of truth in your little ramble there, Princess."

"I may be a  _little_ bitter," I admit with half a smile.

"Well, if it's too much to see my face, I can always make my exit."

"Don't be an ass."

"I can't—"

"Help it, I know," I sigh, falling back onto my pillow. "Are you going to stand there staring at me all night?"

"I wouldn't find it difficult," he shrugs. I roll my eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

"It's late and I'm tired," I announce. He chuckles, kicking off his shoes.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Shall I join you?"

"Don't be—"

"An ass," he finishes, clearly mocking me.

"Balthier—"

"I'm going at my own pace, thank you."

"What are you  _doing?"_ I sit up impatiently, watching him fiddle with the back of his vest. "Do you need help with that?"

"Of course not, I do this every night," he reminds me, finally managing to pull it free.  _Then why's it taking so long now?_  He starts toward the bed and I hold up a hand.

"Absolutely not. Take thing off," I demand, referring to his shirt. "It makes me too warm."

"Alright." He obeys, his lips gracing the slightest bit of a smile. Several scars I've never seen before litter his skin; I tear my eyes away. "Better?"

"Better," I nod, pulling up the blankets on the other side of the bed and switching the light off as the other side of the mattress sinks under his weight. I turn to face Balthier, pulling the sheets up to my chin. Only the slightest light of the moon slips in through my window, illuminating the room the tiniest bit. Balthier raises an eyebrow upon noticing my expectant stare.

"Yes?"

"Be completely, brutally honest," I say in a low voice, watching his expression for change earnestly. "Did you miss this at all?"

"Did I...?" he repeats, narrowing his eyes as he processes an answer. "I suppose so." His lips lift into a gentle smile and he props his head up with one arm. "I missed  _this._ I won't miss it, however, when in your sleep you kick at me like an angry chocobo and steal all the sheets away."

"And I won't miss it when you try to wrestle me while I'm trying to cool off," I counter, eliciting a chuckle.

"You're my only source of warmth if you take the blankets away, Highness."

"You got me there," I sigh, reaching forward and tracing my finger over a new, healed gash across his collarbone. "And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Hard to be honest with the threat of a knife at your disposal," he teases, pushing a long strand of hair away from my face. "Every day, Shera, though I hate to admit it. There were many times when I was ready to throw away my work and hunt you down, but Fran talked me out of it. It made sense, of course. Neither of us was ready to be put back together after how long it took me and Fran to recover."  _I doubt it... I would have taken you at any second of any day._ His words leave me feeling warm as if I've chugged down two or three bottles of madhu. At least I wasn't some past irritation that relentlessly begged him to return and settle his guilty conscience.

"Good," I grin, tapping the tip of his nose. His forehead creases when he raises both eyebrows.

"You really  _are_  tired."

"I haven't had a good night's sleep in months," I sigh, adjusting my head on the pillow.  _Gods, I really am helpless._ "One more question."

"You need—"

"No," I cut him off, pressing a hand to his chest. His heartbeat is strong, perhaps a little fast. I fight a smile.  _He knows what's coming._ I'm terribly anxious; this is always the hard part. Dern sparked up the issue last time I had this conversation. Now, it's my turn. I swallow hard to help my throat. "Do you... believe in love, Balthier?" There it is, that little, almost painful flutter of his pounding heart against my hand. The subconscious reaction is answer enough, but I wait for his words expectantly.

"..." It's unlike him to hesitate. My smile begins to falter. Perhaps I read him wrong. Perhaps this was the wrong time. Perhaps he really is only here to help him quell some guilt. "I didn't for a long time," he starts, speaking as if he's unsure of the words leaving his mouth. I'm  _really_ pushing his boundaries. "And yet here I am." He huffs a gentle laugh, finally meeting my eyes. "Falling harder than the  _Bahamut_ for a confused runaway princess."

" _Confused,"_  I scoff, though I'm smiling, relieved.  _I knew it._ "Okay, I lied. One more."

"You're enjoying this far too much," he huffs, his pride bruised.

"It's not every day that I can get you to open up," I admonish him. "I know it's cheesy, I just... want to know when you knew." Thankfully, my words need no more explanation. I'm not exactly comfortable with these sorts of conversations.

"I suppose it was after you admitted to your identity," he sighs. "I didn't want to admit it, but you'd caught my attention in Nalbina and I couldn't help but pursue the interest."

"Damn," I mutter, stifling a laugh. "I wasn't expecting yours to be before mine."

"I can't say I'm surprised," he admits, taking one of my hands and eyeing the ring that once was his. "How about you, Shera?"

"It was the night after we'd saved Jonan from the Imperials," I recall, watching the band turn round and round my finger. "It hit me like a wall and afterward, I was determined to end it between us. I suppose I never got around to it."

"I'm glad you didn't," he scoffs. "You had every right to fear after Adamar, I'll give you that."

"I'm glad I didn't, too," I huff, shuddering when his cold hand touches my side. "This is getting far too cheesy for my taste."

"Agreed." He shifts closer, stretching out an arm that I rest my head on. "I did have a proposal, though."

"Yeah?"

"See, Fran's off on her own business for now, and from her description, it should be a long while until she's done." He pauses, waiting for any sort of preemptive response. "I thought we might spend some time on that ship of yours, searching for riches and such. The bounty on your head is far too low for my taste."

"Ah, I see," I retort wryly. "I'm not up to your standards quite yet."

"Exactly," he laughs softly. "What do you say, Princess?"

"I say I'd rather do that than spend another year in this damn hellhole."

"That's good enough for me." He lifts my face gingerly with his finger and presses his lips to mine. My hand finds the side of his face, pulling him closer. With a slight, humored huff, he pulls away, resting his back against the pillow. "Well, I suppose we should get our rest if we're to leave tomorrow morning."

" _Morning?_ " I repeat. "What about the others? Shouldn't we let them know?"

"Of course not," he replies simply. "The best sort of disappearance is an unexpected one."

"How could I forget?" I turn over onto my other side, rolling my eyes what he throws an arm over my body and pulls me closer to his chest.  _I can't wait to steal your blankets._ I push my head further into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut, praying that when I wake up, he's still here.

Praying that throughout all the years, fights, and adventures to come, we'll never fail to find our way back to each other.

**~FIN~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap, my friends! Thanks for hanging out for this rollercoaster wreck of a fic. 
> 
> I just started a 13 story if you're interested, and if not, I have a few other Final Fantasy fics that you could check out if you're in the neighborhood ;) 
> 
> Just, y'know, a shameless plug.
> 
> Also, I'm very sad that this is over and I'm coping by eating popcorn and watching Gordon Ramsay scream at people. What a time we live in.
> 
> Until next time!


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